


Wolverine's World

by alcimines



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 58
Words: 159,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcimines/pseuds/alcimines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this tale, the struggle between humanity and mutants ends in a mutant victory, but that victory has some odd and unexpected twists. Personally, I don't think Magneto would be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

WOLVERINE'S WORLD

_**The Xavier Academy, Summer Of 2010:_

"I don't get it," Bobby muttered mostly to himself. He and Hank were in the Danger Room's control facility, overlooking the actual Danger Room itself. At the moment, a half-dozen of the Academy's students were running through a simulation. The holographic explosions and machine gun fire were making the Danger Room look like downtown Baghdad on a particularly bad day.

Hank set his cup of tea on the main console and glanced over at Bobby, "What don't you get?"

"X-23... Laura, I mean. The claws," Bobby replied absently as he made a note about the student's performance.

"I'm not following you, Bobby," Hank said with a shake of his head.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I've never understood the thing with her claws. I mean... Logan has three on each hand, right? But Laura has two per hand and another on each foot. How the heck did that happen if she's Logan's clone?"

"Sexual dimorphism," Hank immediately replied.

Bobby thought that over before responding.

"Okay... Oh, yeah, now I remember. That's when the male and female of a species have a different form. Like the way male cardinals have bright red feathers, but the females are less showy."

Hank smiled agreeably - baring huge white fangs, "Good. I'm glad to see you actually paid attention in our biology classes."

"Can't hang around this place without picking up some of that stuff," Bobby said with a shrug. Then he frowned. "Hey, wait-a-minute..."

Hank cocked his leonine head, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched Bobby consider the problem. Bobby was a lot brighter than most people realized.

"But that means..." Bobby continued slowly - and then stopped.

"Yes," Hank said with a nod, realizing that Bobby had figured it out.

"Logan and Laura aren't just another pair of mutants. They're an actual species," Bobby said quietly, his eyes now glued to Laura as she dodged away from two AK-47 wielding opponents and took out another man who was aiming a rocket launcher at a nearby building.

"Which means?" prodded Hank.

"If Logan and Laura were to have kids..." Bobby continued, then paused again. He apparently didn't want to continue that train of thought out loud.

"Yes," said Hank as he carefully picked up his teacup. His fingers appeared far too massive for such a delicate task, but Hank had lots of practice. "Logan and Laura would almost certainly breed true. And then we'd have little Logans and Lauras running around the mansion - claws, fast-healing, enhanced senses, friendly demeanor, and all."

Bobby whistled as he slowly shook his head. Then he said, "You know, it's probably a good thing that Logan thinks of Laura as a sister."

"A very good thing," Hank said dryly as he took a sip from his cup.

* * *

_**Genosha Island, Spring Of 2011:_

Looking at the monitor screen, Scott tried to keep his feelings to himself. The monitor showed a scene that would have seemed innocuous to any casual viewer. In a patch of woods on the other side of the island, two children - a boy and a girl - were playing a complex game of hide and seek. The boy had a strong, stocky build. The girl was slender and agile. They were both dark-haired and no more than eight years old.

"How many?" Scott asked quietly.

"Seven that we've found so far," Professor Xavier responded just as quietly. "There are almost certainly others that we haven't located. Erik and I are trying to reconfigure Cerebra to search for this particular genetic configuration."

The camera was following the boy as he hunted for his sister. The boy paused for a moment and crouched to sniff at the forest floor. He resembled his... brother... very strongly when he did that.

It was strange to see an eight-year old version of Logan.

"Dammit," muttered Scott. "Don't they ever stop?"

The Professor sighed, "Logan and Laura present a considerable temptation to anyone with a super-soldier program. By now, DNA samples from Logan and Laura are available for a very reasonable price on the genetics black market."

Both men fell silent as they watched the boy continue to track down his sister.

"So where did they come from?" Scott finally asked.

"These two were produced by an offshoot of the Weapon X program that's currently working for the Chinese army. Of the five others, three came from a Hydra operation based out of Malaysia, another was created by one of Dr. Doom's labs, and the remaining one is a product of the Italian intelligence service - and, no, I'm not joking about the last one."

On the monitor screen, there was a flurry of motion as the boy suddenly pounced into a dense thicket of low brush. Then two figures tumbled out of the vegetation and into sight. The boy and his sister jumped to their feet and began sparring - throwing punches and kicks at one another with eye-blurring speed while parrying with expert precision. The mock-fight eventually ended with both of them falling onto the forest floor, locked together in a wrestler's clinch.

Scott and the Professor watched the display of fighting skill silently.

Silently laughing - the camera system didn't have sound transmission capability, the young pair clambered to their feet and brushed dirt and leaves from each others hair and clothes.

Then the two children both looked directly at the camera.

Scott found it very difficult to look back.

* * *

_**Tokyo, Summer Of 2014:_

"I wish to meet my father," the boy said quietly.

Kitty was trying her best to keep her poise as she stared at the lethal-looking teenager who was talking to her. There were five dead Yakuza scattered throughout the building that testified as to just how dangerous the boy could be.

The youngster's genetic makeup was predominately Logan's - the resemblance was clear. But the eyes, skin tone, and hair also made it obvious that some Japanese had also been built into his DNA matrix.

"Logan is not your father," Kitty said in fluent, albeit accented, Japanese.

"Not in the normal sense," agreed the youngster. His eyes were very serious.

Kitty peered closely into the teen's face, "Your mother... I mean... who was the other DNA source?"

Then Kitty ground to a halt, unable to continue.

"Her name was Mariko Yashida," the boy replied softly. "When the Hand created me, they thought that would be an insult to her memory."

Kitty closed his eyes for a long moment, then she opened them. She would have to tell Logan.

"I met your... mother. She was a great woman," Kitty said firmly. Then she pulled a cell-phone out of her jacket and opened it.

"Katherine..." interrupted the suddenly hesitant boy.

Kitty paused in mid-dial, "Yes?"

"If Logan accepts me, may I have the honor of calling you 'sister'?" the clone asked - obviously worried that he would get a negative answer.

A surprised Kitty mulled over the idea. And then she smiled broadly.

* * *

_**Munich, Spring Of 2015:_

A dozen German emergency vehicles - police, fire, and ambulance - were arrayed around the brightly burning research facility. Overhead, a police helicopter and a pair of news choppers were orbiting the area. Their spotlights combined with the fire to turn the night into an eerie, flickering imitation of day.

Sam stood in the doorway of a nearby warehouse and watched the police vehicles carefully. So far, the police didn't seem to realize that the fire was anything other than normal.

In the warehouse, Betsy was facing the pair of young women they had just broken out of the now-burning building.

"My name is Betsy Braddock," she said in rusty, but passable, German. "The reckless American cowboy at the door is named Sam Guthrie."

Sam turned his head and nodded. Then he turned his attention back to the police.

The two girls that Betsy was talking to looked at one another. They were both blonde and very slim. You could only really see Logan in their dark, fathomless eyes. However, both girls had Logan's healing factor - in fact, that was why they existed. The otherwise quite respectable research company that had created the two girls had been using them as test subjects for medical experiments.

Betsy was standing at a very carefully calculated distance from the girls. If they became violent, Betsy wanted to have a chance to react. Actually, the situation wasn't as dangerous as it could have been. The two girl's claws had long ago been removed using a process that combined surgery and regeneration-inhibiting treatments, and they had not been trained as fighters. But then again, nobody had ever trained a lioness how to fight either - and Betsy knew lots of ways to kill people that involved bare fists and feet. So she wasn't inclined to take any unnecessary chances with these two.

"Why did you rescue us?" the older girl asked warily.

"Because nobody - mutant or human - should be used as an experimental animal," Betsy replied.

"But what do you want with us?" asked the younger girl.

"We want you to be free," Betsy said in a harsher tone than she had intended.

The girls nodded slowly. But Betsy could tell they didn't quite believe her. They were both obviously considering an attack - first at Betsy, and then at Sam.

"Betsy means it," Sam said without turning around to look at the girls. "If ya'll want, we'll leave right now and you can do what you want. But if you do that, ah suggest that you take an underground route outta here - the Polizei are pretty thick right now. And if you get caught, ah ain't sure that they won't just give you back to those folks that had you locked up. The guy in charge of that company has a lot of friends in your government."

The two girls seemed to consider Sam's words.

"Please," Betsy added beseechingly, "we don't want to fight you."

Both girls relaxed slightly. The older girl nodded her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Betsy's face.

Meanwhile, the younger girl looked past Betsy towards Sam.

"Are you really a cowboy? Like in the movies?" she asked interestedly.

"Nope, but ah have ridden a horse," Sam answered over his shoulder with an easy, cheerful grin.

Sam's eyes met that of the younger girl. She smiled shyly back at him.

* * *

_**The Xavier Academy, Winter Of 2016:_

Laura and Sooraya were doting over Laura's two babies when Logan entered the nursery.

Momentarily leaving Sooraya with the twins, Laura walked over to Logan and kissed him on the cheek.

"How you doing, Gramps?" she said with a wicked grin.

Logan laughed. He didn't really mind when Laura teased him.

The young clone who had got Laura pregnant was in hiding, but Logan had already regretfully made the decision to let him live. That had been touch and go for a while. However, Laura could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, and she definitely wanted to keep the father of her two children alive.

One of the girls jumped into Sooraya's lap and tugged energetically at her veil. Logan put his arm around Laura and they leaned against one another and watched the two kids play with a now slightly overwhelmed - but merrily laughing - Sooraya. At six months of age, both children were already walking. And running. And climbing.

"I came down here to tell you that Greta just popped," Logan said to Laura. "She had triplets - two girls and a boy. She and the kids are doing fine."

Greta was a couple of years older than Laura. She had been produced by a European bio-technology company that had wanted to research Logan's remarkable healing factor. The X-Men found out about the project and broke Greta and her sister free. The resultant scandal was still rocking the German government.

The father of Greta's children had been produced and trained by the Mossad. He had escaped two years previously. He was also the one who had discovered the research facility where Greta and Helga were being held prisoner. He secretly notified the X-Men and set in motion the chain of events that resulted in Greta and her sister being freed.

"Triplets?" Laura asked with a raised eyebrow. Then she glanced at her own twin girls.

Logan shrugged, "Hank figures we have a tendency for multiple births."

One of the girls - her name was Ororo, the other was named Jean - decided that she had been separated from her mother long enough. With a joyful cry, she rushed at Laura with her arms wide open. Laura expertly caught the giggling girl and lifted her up for a quick kiss.

"Getting to be a lot of us," Logan said with a shake of his head.

* * *

_**Northern California, Summer Of 2017:_

The beach was very isolated and they had it all to themselves. Rahne Sinclair was in her full wolf form as she charged through the surf, joyfully yelping as she jumped over and through the crashing, sunlit waves.

She was followed by a lean, but powerfully built young man. He was a full Logan clone, but had been modifed in-vitro to avoid Logan's distinctively short and stocky form. Hydra had wanted a killer who could easily blend into a crowd if it was required.

The young man loping after Rahne was very fast, but even he was having problems keeping up with her.

Rahne couldn't resist pausing and glancing over her shoulder at the man who was following her. They had been dating for the last four months - which had been some of the happiest months of Rahne's life.

That moment of hesitation cost Rahne as her boyfriend suddenly saw his opening. With a startlingly quick leap, he tackled Rahne and they both tumbled onto the wet sand in a laughing flurry of wet flesh and fur.

Rahne transformed back into human form. She wasn't wearing any clothes, but she didn't really mind. Modesty wasn't really an issue at the moment. And it hadn't been an issue between the two of them for some weeks.

The two young lovers lay on the beach, their arms and legs intertwined as they kissed passionately. Then the young man gently pulled away from Rahne and said something to her in Malayasian.

"What was that?" Rahne asked with a smile. She was picking up bits and pieces of the language, but she wasn't fluent with it yet.

"I just asked you to marry me", the young man replied calmly.

* * *

_**The Xavier Academy, Summer Of 2018:_

The summer picnic was a long-established tradition. Besides being fun, it gave everyone a chance to get back together and compare notes.

Hank McCoy sat in a heavily-reinforced folding chair and watched the chaos as current and former members of the Academy talked, ate, argued, drank, laughed, and played. Hank seemed to be the only one who wasn't taking part in the festivities. Instead, he was keeping a close eye on certain select members of the party.

Rahne Sinclair never got more than a few feet from her dark-haired and eyed husband. She was hugely pregnant and positively aglow with happiness. Hank had examined her just before the party started. An ultrasound test suggested that Rahne was carrying quintuplets. Fortunately, Hank was sure that Rahne's theriomorphic physiology could handle that big of a birthing without surgical intervention.

Meanwhile, Sam Guthrie and his wife Helga were busier than most of the people at the picnic. After all, they had two very active children to keep track of. In fact, Helga was currently dragging the boy out of a tree he had just expertly climbed, while Sam was keeping the girl occupied by chasing her around the picnic area. Sam was having some trouble keeping pace with the girl and every now and then he was forced to cheat by using his flying powers.

Laura, her husband, and their girls were off in the woods, tracking deer.

It had turned out that what Hank was calling the 'Logan Gene' was dominant - very dominant. The offspring of any mutant who mated with Logan or one of his clones, almost always produced children that shared many of his characteristics. And interbreeding between Logan clones resulted in children who were very much a part of the Logan-Laura sub-species.

Bobby walked over to Hank and collapsed into the seat next to him.

"What's up?" Bobby asked Hank as he fished a beer out of a nearby cooler.

"Nothing," Hank replied broodingly as he watched Rahne tenderly steal a kiss from her husband.

Bobby rolled his eyes heavenward, "Oh, for Pete's sake, Hank! What's got you so down?"

It was a long time before Hank replied. Then he shrugged and said distractedly, "I think I have received a glimpse of the future."

Bobby shrugged as he popped the cap off of a beer bottle, "And what does the future hold for us, oh prophetic one?"

"It will be red, Bobby. The future will be red of tooth and claw."

Bobby didn't catch the reference.

* * *

_**Earth Orbit, About 200 Years Later:_

The Shipmaster tried to feign interest in what his Cargochief was saying. The man was competent, but he had a tendency to ramble on about details that really didn't matter. And what really mattered was turning a profit. The Shipmaster, his ship, and his crew were from Hovarth - a small, resource-poor, but technologically advanced world out on the galactic rim. That world's economy was based on interstellar trade, and Hovarthian ships could be found all over this spiral arm of the galaxy.

So far, this voyage had been unspectacular and the Shipmaster was getting worried about what his financial backers would say when he returned home. He needed to make a big score and he needed to make it soon.

The Cargochief glanced at his notes and said, "Well, sir, this planet is called 'Earth'. It has an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and a large hydrosphere. The climate is wildly variable, but is generally livable. The dominant sentient species has a standard bipedal/five-senses configuration - a sure sign of Host influence. Historically, this world was noted for a large meta population - another sign of Host influence. Interest in the meta population of this world led to frequent interaction with the Kree, Skrull, and Shi'ar Empires - there are even some crazy legends about contact with Galactus."

The Shipmaster couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, "Not likely, Chief. This is still a living world."

The Cargochief nodded, "Yes, sir. As I said, that part is probably just a legend. Anyway, a little over 100 cycles ago, this world had a big war which knocked it back to the pre-industrial era. For some reason, the Shi'ar had an Interdiction Squadron around this world for quite some time after that. But those ships were recently recalled back to the Empire - probably due to those Imperial succession problems we've been hearing about."

That made the Shipmaster perk up his ears. This world had a streak of meta-talent in its gene-pool and had also been locked down by the Shi'ar until just recently? Why, that presented quite an opportunity! The slave trade was particularly profitable if the commodity being sold could be gathered at minimal cost.

The Shipmaster turned to his first officer, "You've made an analysis?"

"Yes, sir. Probes report that this world's technology is at the bow and arrow level. We aren't picking up any sign of major meta activity. They're ripe for the taking, sir."

The Shipmaster looked back at the Cargochief.

"Using cryosleep, we could fit somewhere between five and six thousand slaves aboard ship," the Cargochief continued. "The loss rate in transit should be no more than five percent. Profitability analysis looks very good at the nearest likely markets. Profits could be extremely high if the population still maintains a meta-gene."

The Cargochief punched a button on his computer console. A set of numbers flashed up on the briefing screen. The Shipmaster blinked in surprise. The Cargochief was severely understating the situation when he called the profitability analysis "very good."

The Shipmaster smiled to himself. It looked like his problems were over.

* * *

_**Two Days Later..._

Screams and the roar of blaster fire echoed down the corridor just before the blast door slammed shut and silence descended. Trembling and gasping for breath, the Shipmaster leaned against the bulkhead and reloaded his blaster pistol with shaking hands. He had just abandoned the last few members of his crew to a gruesome death, but he didn't have any time for pangs of conscience.

By the Gods, landing on this world had been a horrible mistake! They should have wondered why the Shi'ar had interdicted the world! They should have spent more time studying this world before landing! And damn the Shi'ar for recalling the patrol ships that had been protecting the rest of the Universe from the natives of this world!

But it was now far too late for regrets. The natives were swarming throughout the ship and had taken control of almost every deck. The Shipmaster had lost his ship and his crew. But it was possible - just barely possible - that the Shipmaster could survive if he managed to reach the small bay that held the ship's launch. The launch didn't have a faster-than-light drive, but it would suffice to get him off of this hellworld. Using the survival pack in the launch, he could hold out in orbit for several months. Hopefully someone - perhaps the Shi'ar - would pass nearby and pick up his distress signal.

The Shipmaster finished reloading his pistol and looked down the corridor towards the hatchway that led to the boat bay.

Standing between him and the hatch was a young girl who was looking at the Shipmaster with a strangely calm gaze. She was dark-haired and wearing some kind of short dress that left her legs, feet, and arms bare. A bird-shaped pendant made of a translucent reddish-orange material dangled from her neck. She was also soaked from head to toe with the maroon-colored blood of the Shipmaster's crew.

For a frozen moment, the Shipmaster and the girl stared at one another. Then a pair of bone claws suddenly protruded from the backs of the girl's hands.

The Shipmaster screamed, voided his bodily wastes, and tried to raise his handgun.

The last thing he saw was a blur of motion.

* * *

_**Report To Sector Command, Shi'ar Scout Cruiser 'Brilliant Lance'._

...the Hovarth trading ship was found on the western shore of the continent identified as 'North America'. Scans and probes showed no sign of survivors. As per standing orders, the ship was destroyed via orbital bombardment.

Given the nature of the inhabitants of this world, it is strongly recommended that the Interdiction patrol be re-established over this planet.


	2. Wolverine's World:  The Heretic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting on my hard-drive for a long time. It's a view of the far-future, post-human/mutant conflict Earth of "Wolverine's World" from the point-of-view of some of the locals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that there's a glossary at the end of the story that a reader might find helpful.

WOLVERINE'S WORLD: THE HERETIC

_From the Traditions...._

_Know you that long ago the world was ruled by the Folk. And that was a time of madness, greed, and soulless science._

_But eventually Wilder children were born among the Folk, and the Folk feared greatly, for they knew their time was coming to an end._

_As father turned against son, and brother betrayed brother, great Wilder Lords appeared and battled among themselves for rulership. Chief among those were the Crippled Lord and his great rival, the Lord of the North and South. Their conflict raged for many years across the entire world and even up into the darkness between the stars._

_During that war, the Old One -- the father of our people -- was a great warrior in the service of the Crippled Lord. Many foes did the Old One slay in the name of his lord._

_Eventually, the Folk and the Wilder fought their final battle. On that terrible day, the world was almost destroyed. The Wilder triumphed, but few of them survived and their victory was an empty one._

_In the aftermath, the Old One proclaimed to his children that the day of the Blood had arrived. Nobody else could deliver sanity from the madness. Nobody else was more fit to survive in a broken world._

* * *

 

"What is this?" I asked the older of the two samurai.

The younger samurai wisely kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the prisoner. This was a matter for his elders and he understood that.

The older samurai met my gaze steadily. "She's a heretic, sir. We're holding her until a priestess collects her."

The prisoner was a girl who was only beginning to show the first signs of filling out into womanhood. If I had to makes a guess, I would have said that she was perhaps thirteen or fourteen years old. Otherwise, she had blue eyes, a wild spray of freckles, and the fiery red hair that was an age-old sign of the favor of the Old One. I suppose she might be pretty, but a bath would be necessary to prove it one way or the other.

We were in the village of Alban and both samurai were wearing the badges of Alban's lord. Alban is a village on the Huds river, and it's the last outpost of the Blood before you entered the trackless wilderness of the northern woods. The farmers, miners, woodsmen, and fur-trappers of the region are historically a tough and capable lot who are proud of their independence, loyal to their lords, and respectful to both the goddesses and the spirit of the Old One.

Over the last century, I've visited Alban perhaps a half-dozen times. The village was all that remained of an ancient city that had once been called Albany -- there are ruins of the old city scattered in every direction. Back then the Huds river had been known as the Hudson. However, those days were long past.

I'd never met the current lord of Alban, but he had a reputation as a wise and fair-minded ruler. However, he was also known to be a pious man and I could see that he might be quite firm about religious issues. None the less, chaining a youngling to a stone pier on the edge of the village marketplace, and stationing two samurai to guard her struck me as questionable... even if the prisoner was a heretic.

I'd just disembarked from a riverboat. It had been decades since I'd last set foot in Alban, and it seemed to me that nothing much had changed. At the foot of the river-side docks was a marketplace that was bordered by a row of stone warehouses, a scatter of wooden cottages, a communal counting-house, and a pair of stoutly-built taverns.

The marketplace was bustling. Several dozen Blood and Folk women -- a mixture of wives, daughters, concubines, and servants -- were haggling with the stall-keepers. A group of elderly men were seated where they could watch both the river and the marketplace as they talked the day away. Children ran around, their voices high and excited as they played games of pursuit and pretend that were older than anyone could possibly remember.

With only some variation of dress and language, it was scene you might expect to see in any village or town, anywhere in the world.

I was in Alban because my dreams had sent me northwards. As always, the dreams were unclear. However, their intent was obvious. The spirit of the Old One -- called both Logan and Wolverine -- was calling to me. As a servant of his will, I have no choice but to heed his summons.

Among the Blood, my kind is commonly known as a 'seeker'. The learned men at the University at Nyack have called me a 'shaman'. Scholars love to label things. Especially things they don't really understand.

It is my duty to seek out the will of the Old One. I try to discover the path that serves the good of the Blood -- the Old One's descendants. However, I didn't need a sign to know what every legend tells us.

The Old One had been kind to children.

The prisoner was silent as she gazed at us sullenly.

I looked at the prisoner. She glared right back at me.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Rahne," she replied shortly.

That made me pause. She had a name that the Old One would have known. That was... interesting.

The younger samurai stepped forward as he gave Rahne a warning growl, demanding that she show me the proper respect due my age and position.

"Sir. My name is Rahne," the girl said through gritted teeth.

I carefully put a hand on the younger samurai's shoulder. I could feel hard muscle tense under his chainmail jacket, but he backed away.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Rahne?" I asked.

Rahne wordlessly clenched her fist before her chest. The sign of the hammer of Thor.

"You aren't chained up because you choose to honor the thunder god," I said skeptically. While certainly not embraced or encouraged, the worship of Thor is more-or-less tolerated among the Blood. After all, the legends spoke of the Old One and the Thunderer as brothers-in-arms. Both had served together in the legendary warrior-band known as the Avengers.

The girl's blue eyes were hard and defiant. "I honor the thunder god. And I honor his lover and wife -- the goddess of storms."

The two samurai shifted uncomfortably at such plain-spoken deviancy.

I sighed and shook my head.

Damn it.

Kids nowadays -- with their silly ideas, odd clothes, and strange music.

* * *

 

Thor is a distant and respected figure from the past. There are those who choose to worship him, but the Blood keeps its distance from the memory of Asgard. Odin and his descendants are not for us.

From where I stood in the marketplace, I could see the top of the distant, white-painted bulk of the temple of the three goddesses. It faced the fortified stone tower that was the home of the lord of Alban.

The Lady of Storms is one of the three goddesses of the Blood. The belief that she and the thunder god were husband and wife was, in fact, heresy. The temple utterly refused to accept it. In fact, the various Thor worshippers I'd encountered in my lifetime were hostile to the idea. They claim that Thor's wife is a fellow Asgardian named Sif.

The elder samurai and I exchanged a glance. His mouth was set and hard, but I saw no cruelty in his face -- just a sense of resignation. He knew what was going to happen to Rahne and he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all.

"Have you ever seen a burning?" I asked Rahne bluntly.

Rahne didn't say anything. Perhaps there was fear deep inside her, but she wouldn't allow it to show.

"You damned fool," the older samurai growled at Rahne with an exasperated shake of his head.

"Rahne... it takes a long time to die by fire," the younger samurai added quickly. His eyes were on Rahne and I could hear something shaky and desperate in his voice that he was trying his brave best to hide. I suddenly realized that the younger samurai wasn't really that much older than Rahne. They had probably known one another while growing up.

The expression on Rahne's face just got harder.

"When is that priestess going to show up?" I asked the older guard.

He nodded towards one of the taverns. "She's in there, sir. I think she's stalling."

I glanced at the tavern. Behind it, the horizon was darkening. There was some weather rolling in.

Not a surprise. When a priestess of the Lady of Storms is in distress, the weather shares her opinion.

* * *

 

The Shield and Star was the better of the two taverns in Alban. As I recalled, it served an outstanding local ale. The food was pretty good, too. During my last visit, the place had always been filled with patrons.

That hadn't change. The common room of the tavern was packed.

I stepped inside the door and the tavern slowly ground to a halt. Within a few seconds, everyone was staring at me.

That's happened to me many times before -- and will happen again. It comes with who I am. My intricately carved staff and red-stained tooth-and-claw necklace tells everyone what I am. It would be a few days before everyone got used to having a seeker in their midst. We are a rare sight.

"The Old One is gone, but his spirit remains..." I began, pitching my voice to carry throughout the room.

"We remember the Old One," came the rolling, rumbling, response from dozens of throats. Everyone from an elderly holder accompanied by his retinue of wives, children, samurai, and servants, to an awe-struck Folk barmaid who even younger than Rahne, gave the formal reply. Most of the people in the room had never seen a seeker, but they still knew the ancient words.

That was as it should be.

"...and he is with us," I finished.

There was a low, but firm, growl of assent.

The priestess was seated at a corner table. A servant was with her. A temple guardsman stood just behind the priestess.

I walked over. The priestess put down her cup. The handmaiden unabashedly stared at me. The guard made an indefinable shift that was in no way threatening, but warning me that he was ready for anything.

My kind exists to find the will of the Old One. And his will does not flinch from bloodshed. A seeker often walks right into trouble.

"My name is James," I told the priestess. She was a beautiful Wilder woman -- perhaps a century younger than me. She had delicate features, light brown skin, and long blonde hair that was set into an intricate braid. She was wearing the black and yellow robes of a priestess of storms. A silver lightning bolt symbol hung from her neck, indicating that she was a junior priestess of the temple.

The priestess stood politely. I was her elder, after all, and the Temple recognized my position.

"Hello," the priestess replied carefully. "My name is Dare. It is an honor to meet one who seeks the will of the Old One. How may I help you?"

I tried not to react. "Dare" is a modern, abbreviated version of "N'Dare". That is a name with meaning. In the case of a priestess of storms, a great deal of meaning.

The signs were closing in around me, coming faster and faster.

"Tell me about that heretic you're about to burn at the stake."

For several heartbeats, the priestess stared into my eyes. Then she nodded.

* * *

 

We sat. A bowl of rabbit stew, some bread and cheese, and a cup of ale appeared in front of me. The Folk barmaid bowed and quickly backed away. There was no mention of payment. Which was good, since I had no money. My kind is supposed to eschew the material world.

"So you have a heresy problem here in Alban?" I asked bluntly.

Dare wasn't rattled by what I'd said. "Yes, we do."

I stirred the stew with a spoon and tried it. It was good. "Where you have one heretic, you usually have more."

"True, but I think I might be able to cause any others to reconsider their errors."

I took a long, deliberate drink of ale as I looked directly into Dare's face. "Have you ever ordered a burning before?"

"No," Dare replied flatly. "And I don't plan on ordering one now."

My eyes drifted to Dare's handmaiden. She had black hair, penetrating green eyes, and was dressed much more plainly than her mistress. She seemed a little older than the typical servant girl. When she saw I was looking at her, she quickly glanced away.

"When do you plan on dealing with Rahne?"

Dare made a gesture with the mostly empty cup that was in her hand. "As soon as I'm done with this."

Outside, there was a dull roar of distant thunder. And Dare's eyes were slowly turning pure white.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to wait until I'm done with my dinner?" I asked.

"Eat quickly," she suggested.

I couldn't help but smile. I was beginning to like Dare.

"Rahne admits to being a heretic," I said as I stirred the stew with my spoon. "A Thororite, as a matter of fact."

Dare rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

"Do you know anything about her?" I asked.

"You mean besides the fact she's a damn fool?" Dare growled irritably.

I did smile at that.

The Priestess took a deep breath. Then she continued in a calmer tone. "Her family had a freehold a few miles up river. About a year ago, they were overrun during a Creed raid and everyone was killed except for her. She drifted into Alban and made a living doing odd work here and there. But about a month ago she started talking nonsense. There are Thorians among the Folk and Wilder riverboat crews. Normally that's something we in the Temple don't care about, but if some of them are spreading this heresy about the Lady of Storms and the Thunderer... well, that is our business."

"So what does the Temple have in mind for the girl?"

Dare smiled grimly, "The current plan of this humble servant of the Lady of Storms is to finish her drink, and then go scare some sense into that foolish girl."

"She doesn't strike me as being easy to scare," I suggested.

"The Goddess will provide," Dare replied with a shrug.

I didn't say anything as I finished my ale. It was really quite good.

"So, James-Who-Seeks, what is your interest in this matter?" Dare asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied honestly.

Dare frowned.

It was time for some honesty -- mixed with a bit of mystery. "The Old One is watching," I said.

Dare and companions blinked in surprise. There was a quiet stir from the tables that were within earshot. Then Dare nodded in careful acquiescence.

* * *

 

Dark, angry, clouds ringed Alban on all sides by the time we left the Shield and Star. Erratic winds whipped through the marketplace. A light rain began to fall intermittently as we walked to where Rahne was secured.

Out of long habit, I carefully looked around for signs. What I saw surprised me.

The village was rife with signs. I'd never seen so many at once.

Across the river, a bold stroke of blue-white lightning suddenly split the sky.

Rahne's red hair seemed as bright as a beacon. It seemed to almost glow.

Two bald eagles -- a mated pair -- were circling the village. The unnatural shift in the weather seemingly had them baffled.

A young ranger fresh from the hunt, clad in buckskin and leather, entered the far side of the marketplace. A dead deer was slung over his shoulders and blood trickled from the deer's mouth. At the ranger's side paced his wolf-dog companion.

Down by the docks, the crew of a fishing-boat had spreading out a net for maintenance. A long pair of oars were holding up the net. The oars formed an X.

I shook my head as the thunder from the lightning strike finally rolled over us. It wasn't a question of finding a sign. Instead, there were so many of them crowded around us that I couldn't trust myself to interpret them. There was only one thing that I could say with any certainty.

The Old One was watching.

The crowd in the marketplace, already thinned out due to the rain, gave way before us. Many bowed their heads and made the crossed-forearm gesture of respect towards Dare as they backed away. Dare was manifesting Lady Ororo in all her glory. The proper place for the faithful was at a safe and respectful distance.

The two samurai guarding Rahne didn't look as if they particularly wanted to be in the midst of the approaching scene. However, they firmly kept to their post as they bleakly watched our advance.

Dare paused to stare at Rahne. Dare's servant was behind her and slightly to the left. The bodyguard stood at Dare's right side. I was several paces to the side of the serving girl. For the moment, this was Dare's show.

Encumbered by her chains, Rahne clambered to her feet and defiantly met Dare's eyes. The young fools are always the bravest fools.

"Unchain her," Dare said.

Speaking of fools...

Dare's bodyguard let out the softest of sighs and edged closer to Dare. A fraction of a second might make the difference between saving Dare's life and watching her bleed out on the cobblestones. Dare was Wilder, not Blood. She couldn't regenerate.

The older samurai, his face grim, pulled an iron key from his belt. The younger samurai stood behind the girl and held her by the arms as his companion unlocked the manacles from around her wrists and ankles. The chains clattered to the cobblestones and the two samurai stepped away. After all, Dare's conversation with Rahne could very well end with a lightning bolt. Standing too close to Rahne might not be a good idea. However, they didn't take their eyes away from Rahne.

Still meeting Dare's eyes, Rahne slowly rubbed her wrists.

A startled murmur arose from the crowd as Dare calmly stepped forward -- and well into claw range of the prisoner. The bodyguard muttered something under his breath, immediately broke position, and moved urgently to intervene. I was closer and automatically stepped forward. The two samurai did the same.

Dare held up a hand and all of us -- the bodyguard, the two samurai, and I -- ground to a frustrated halt.

The goddess was with Dare. We owed her the right to pursue her duty as she saw fit.

"Do you know me?" Dare said to the prisoner. Her voice now had a bold and echoing quality.

Rahne stood up. Her facial expression and body language radiating pugnacious determination.

"You are Dare of the Temple," Rahne said coldly. "You are a priestess of Thor's wife and I honor you for that."

There were gasps and mutters from the watching crowd. I suppose everyone knew that Rahne was a heretic, but to hear her so readily confirm it was still a shock.

Her hand flaring with bright white electricity, Dare slapped Rahne, slamming the girl backwards and off her feet. For a long moment, Rahne lay frozen on the ground. Then she began shaking her head and blinking her eyes as she shook off the jolt she'd just received.

That was when Dare's servant girl, who had been somewhere behind us, actually stepped between Dare and I, her eyes locked on Rahne. I think I cursed as I grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her back. The girl yelped in surprise, but I didn't care. Better she suffer some indignity than be either gutted or electrocuted.

"Reject your heresy and you will be forgiven," Dare told Rahne evenly, electricity flaring around her eyes.

With a savage, guttural howl, Rahne surged upwards, her hand and foot claws extended as she began spinning into the classic, instinctive attack pattern of a Blood female. She was fast -- shockingly fast. I lunged forward, but there was a hollow feeling in my gut as I realized that I would never be able to stop Rahne in time. It was too late to save Dare. And then we would have no choice but to kill the girl.

But just shy of her target, Rahne seemed to hesitate for the merest of split seconds. And then she slammed into a lightning-tinged whirlwind that Dare had formed around herself. With a deafening roar that caused everyone to flinch away, Rahne was thrown backwards again. She hit the stone pier with bone-crunching force.

The two samurai, the bodyguard, and I barely managed to stop ourselves before running into Dare's whirlwind. Then it almost immediately dissipated. The spike of energized air that Dare had summoned flowed away from her like a gusty tide. Everyone in the area shielded their eyes from wind-blown dust and debris.

Rahne's eyes were unfocused and blurry. She had an ugly cut on her forehead, and blood was trickling down her face But even as I watched, the cut began to heal and Rahne began to stir -- she was an uncommonly powerful regenerator. Dare's bodyguard had moved to a position to the immediate left his mistress. He was obviously waiting, and if Rahne attacked again he would intervene. I could tell by the look in the bodyguard's eyes that this time he wouldn't stop until either he or Rahne were dead.

"The Goddess is merciful," Dare said sternly, heat and steam radiating from the ground around her. "Reject your heresy, Rahne, and she will allow you to live."

Her face cold and determined, Rahne painfully climbed to her feet. What was left of her tunic was charred in places. Her claws were still out.

For a long, frozen moment, the woman and the girl glared at one another. Much to my surprise, Dare looked away first.

"I saw someone burn once," Dare said suddenly. Her voice was different. Now, it was no longer imbued with the power of the Goddess. Now, she sounded like a normal woman. And a strangely vulnerable one.

Rahne -- about to strike -- paused. Her eyes warily searching Dare's face.

"It was terrible," Dare continued quietly. "He was a Blood male. And he healed as he burned. So it took a long time for him to die. I swore then and there that I would never order anyone burned at the stake. Rahne, if you do not return to the Goddess, I will kill you here and now rather than see you suffer like that. But know this: if I end you, it will be as if your family never existed. The last remnant of them will be gone forever."

Rahne flexed her clawed hands, her eyes now locked with Dare's.

Dare extended her hands, her open palms faced upwards. The soft rain intensified, washing the blood from Rahne's face.

"I'm begging you, Rahne," Dare said softly. "Save your life. Save the memory of your father and mother. Please don't make me kill you and everything you might be. Come back to us."

Dare fell silent. The watching crowd, now swollen to considerable size, was motionless and still. for several seconds, there was only the gentle hissing of the rain.

"Come back, child," a voice called from the crowd -- it sounded like an older woman. "Girl, return to the ways of your father," called another voice -- male, this time. Other voices spoke up. Nobody called for Rahne's death. That was striking. The people of Alban respected the Goddesses, but they were not fanatics.

Rahne scanned the pleading crowd, perhaps surprised by their reaction. For a long moment, she was obviously torn by indecision.

"Please, Rahne!" Dare pleaded.

Everything went silent as the moment hung on the edge of a claw. Dare's serving girl was standing next to me. She had my arm in her hands and was squeezing hard...

Then Rahne retracted her claws and fell to her knees, her head bowed.

"I'm sorry," Rahne said in a cracking voice. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me, my Lady of Storms."

The crowd rumbled in approval. Then cheers broke out. Dare moved towards Rahne, but her bodyguard quickly inserted himself between them and helped Rahne to her feet himself.

I glanced at Dare's handmaiden. She looked at me and our eyes met.

"Good work," I told her.

A disgusted expression appeared on her face.

* * *

 

The Temple of the Three Goddesses was located in the center of the village, just opposite the walled compound of Lord Alban. Dare and I were in a private chamber deep inside the Temple's main structure. Dare's handmaiden entered the room, carrying a serving tray.

"I still don't understand your interest in this affair," Dare said. She was obviously puzzled.

The 'servant' put steaming mugs of pine-needle tea in front of Dare and I. Then she put that tray on a nearby table and broke out of her role by picking up a third mug and taking a cautious sip from it.

"I think that girl has been touched by the spirit of the Old One," I said. "The signs are there."

Dare nodded cautiously, "Her name. Her hair. And she's a powerful regenerator. That cut on her forehead healed almost immediately."

I shrugged, but said nothing.

Then Dare laughed ruefully, "Well, I certainly didn't see the signs! And I'm damn lucky she didn't take my head off. Our little Rahne is very fast."

I smiled and glanced at Dare's 'handmaiden'. "Fortunately, you have assets of your own."

Dare sighed, "As you have obviously guessed, Emma here is a telepath -- actually she is a priestess of the Lady of Fire. The Temple finds it useful to have someone like her on hand who is not obviously a priestess. And... yes... Emma slowed Rahne down just enough when she attacked me. And she gave Rahne a telepathic 'push' when I asked her to reject her foolish notions."

Emma gestured at us with her mug of tea. "She's a hurt and angry girl caught between being a child and an woman. The Thororite heresy was just a means of expressing her anger."

Emma was yet another old name that held a great deal of meaning. And the more I studied Dare's face, the more I saw the signs of the ancient and honored lineage of the Lady of Storms herself.

More signs.

Emma tossed her hair in irritation, "He also knows that I'm a Graymalkin."

I decided to ignore the implication that Emma had read my mind. Actually, it was possible that she'd simply made a good guess.

The Graymalkin are a secretive group -- some would say a cult -- within the Priestesses of Fire. Those aware of their existence thought of them as the investigators and inquisitors for the Temple of the Three Goddesses. That was true, but I knew that they were much more. I make a point of being careful around any Graymalkin I might meet. They are a law of their own.

I gazed into his mug and said, "I couldn't help but notice that while Rahne did ask forgiveness from the Lady of Storms, she didn't actually renounce her heresy."

Dare sighed again. "James the Seeker, you are shaman of the Old One and a man of many years and much wisdom. And you are an honored guest of my Temple and I find that I personally like you. But you are becoming a pain in the ass."

That actually made me chuckle. "With any luck, I'll be out your way soon enough. So what will happen to Rahne?"

Dare made an indeterminate motion with her shoulders. "At the moment, she is on her hands and knees, dressed in rags, and scrubbing the floor of the shrine to the Lady of Storms with the absolutely smallest brush I could find. After a few months of that, the Goddess will be appeased and then I'll find something more useful for Rahne to do. And if she remains a heretic, hopefully she will have learned by then to keep her mouth shut about it."

I made a point of not looking at Emma as I said, "Rahne's very fast, a strong regenerator, and has no family ties. As someone who has toyed with heresy, some might consider her expendable. If properly trained, such a girl would make a formidable servant -- or assassin."

Emma's eyes narrowed. Dare gave her a warning glance.

"James... how the Temple chooses to make use of a repenting heretic is no affair of yours," Dare told me bluntly.

"True," I conceded, "but I am merely offering you some advice. You don't want to turn Rahne into a killer."

"She's Blood," Emma broke in. "And as you said, the spirit of the Old One is strong in her. She's a killer by definition."

"Which is why I suggest you be careful," I answered coldly. "The Old One is lurking within her -- just beneath the surface. Some of the oldest stories of the Old One tell how those who tried to use him paid for their arrogance with their lives."

Dare considered what I'd said for a long moment, thoughtfully rotating her cup in her hands as she did.

"I will consider that," she responded slowly. Emma shot Dare a surprised look, but said nothing.

At the moment, that was the best I could hope for.

* * *

 

The senior priestess in the Temple was named Carol and she served the Lady of Blades. She kindly offered me the temple's hospitality for the night and I gratefully accepted.

Emma showed me to my room. It wasn't much -- a stone cell with a cot and some other minimal furnishings -- but it was warm, dry, and clean.

"We get pilgrims every know and then. It's for them," Emma said as she held the door open for me. We stepped inside and she carefully closed the door behind us.

I shook my head. "Even in the temple, you still pretend to be a servant?"

"Yes," Emma replied matter-of-factly. "There are many here who do not know who I really am. I prefer to keep it that way."

"Very well," I said, trying not to sound too dismissive. The affairs of the temple mean little to me. My duties lie elsewhere.

"It must be difficult to keep up your role," I said idly as I dropped my traveling pack into a corner. Most Blood or Wilder would die rather than pretend to be Folk.

Emma laughed and I could see mischief in her blue eyes. She was pouring water from a wooden pitcher into a wash bowl.

"I do what's necessary," she said.

I sat on the cot -- it was surprisingly comfortable. Of course, I'm used to sleeping on the ground.

With both hands, Emma took a wash basin from a low table and gazed into it. Suddenly, steam was rising from the water.

I tried to remember that last time I'd washed in hot water. I couldn't recall.

"That's a handy trick," I said appreciatively. By then I was rather hoping that Emma would hurry up and leave so I could bathe.

"I know quite a few," Emma observed. Then she slipped off her robes. The shift she was wearing underneath left her arms and legs bare and was thin to the point of transparency.

Sitting next to me on the bed, Emma pulled off my shirt and began bathing me.

I didn't object.

 

* * *

 

It was morning -- just before dawn. I sensed someone approaching my cell and opened my eyes.

Beside me on the cot, Emma was breathing softly. Trying not to disturb her, I got to my feet and began pulling on my trousers. Emma interrupted the process by casually reaching out from the cot and touching me in a manner that was awesomely inappropriate.

"Demon woman," I hissed as I moved away so I could finish buttoning my pants in peace.

"I try to live up to my name," she laughed.

There was a knock at the door. I grabbed the blanket and tossed it over Emma's bare body. She calmly threw the blanket to one side, sat up, produced a brush from her scattered robes, and began languorously running it through her long hair. She was every inch a tawdry servant who'd just spent an active night with one of her betters.

Not for the first time, it occurred to me that Emma was good at her job. Very good.

The acolyte at the door served the Lady of Blades. She was wearing the red sash of Lady Elektra, instead of the blue of Lady Elizabeth, or the black of Lady Laura. And the look she gave Emma was filled with an angry mixture of contempt and envy. Acolytes are required to be celibate until they finally graduate and become priestesses.

"My pardon, sir," she said tersely -- speaking to me while still glaring at Emma, "but lord Alban has summoned priestess Dare. She requests that you accompany her."

"Tell her I'm on the way," I said as I reached for my boots.

* * *

 

The lord of Alban was a broad and extremely tough-looking Blood warrior, but there were the first traces of gray in his beard. In a few years, one of his underlings would challenge him for the lordship of Alban. If that challenger lost, there would eventually be another. That was pre-ordained, and was as natural as birth and as inexorable as death. It was the way of the Blood. But until then, he was the lord of Alban and his word was law.

"I want her gone," he told us bluntly.

Dare and I exchanged glances. The lord was within his rights and we both knew it.

"Rahne has renounced her heresy," Dare said softly.

Lord Alban shook his head. "That's not good enough. She's tainted and her presence threatens the spiritual well-being of my people. Get her off my lands."

Dare didn't have any choice. She bowed low and said, "It will be as you say, my lord."

Then the Lord of Alban gave me a long, level, look. "Do you have anything to say, Patch?"

'Patch' is an ancient name for my kind. Actually, I was a bit surprised that the lord knew it.

"I think you're wrong," I replied.

The lord blinked in surprise as a slight flutter of surprise whispered through his attendants in his hall. His samurai all stirred dangerously. That wasn't the sort of thing a lord of the Blood has said to his face too often. At least, not in public.

The lord of Alban then showed me how he had managed to hold on to power for so long. Instead of flying into a useless rage, he smiled and shook his head.

"I forgot that your kind has the right and duty of plain speech," he said mildly. "So pray tell me, James the Patch, how am I wrong?"

"Rahne's rejection of her heresy is a lesson to other heretics," I answered, keeping my words neutral and my tone respectful. "Keeping her close -- safe and repentant -- shows strength instead of weakness. It also shows anyone who is harboring false beliefs, or is under the influence of someone who does, that there is a way out other than by fire and the stake."

The Lord of Alban continued to impress me. He glanced at his senior wife -- a Wilder woman with iron-gray hair. The woman said nothing and made no gesture. And yet I could tell some sort of communication took place.

"I will not retract my words," the lord said finally. "However, I will accept that Rahne's example is useful and her presence may serve a purpose. She is banished for six months. After that time, she may return if she wishes."

Then something sly and amused appeared in the lord's eyes. "I'm sure you won't mind shepherding her for the next half-year, won't you, James?"

Dare let out a soft noise that I'm sure was a stifled laugh.

I kept my face professionally expressionless. Then I bowed my head and said, "Of course, my lord."

* * *

 

Rahne was carefully scrubbing the floor when Dare and I entered the shrine. She was on her hands and knees and had a brush not much bigger than my thumbnail. She was dressed in a tattered and stained rag.

"I thought you were joking," I told Dare.

Dare shook her head. Rahne, reacting to our voices, looked up. But she didn't stop scrubbing.

"You can stop," Dare said. It seemed to me that there was a touch of regret in her voice.

Rahne dropped the brush with a relived sigh and knelt up. After painfully flexing her hands, she began rubbing her wrists.

"You've been banished," Dare told her.

Rahne frowned.

"It's for six months," I added. "Until then, you and I are traveling together."

"Okay," Rahne said in a small voice. "Uhm... can I have some real clothes?"

I looked at Dare.

"I'll see what I can do," Dare said.

* * *

 

Actually, Rahne ended up with a fine new tunic and a matching wool cloak. Dare also gave her a pair of sandals. However, that seemed to be a problem since Rahne was used to going barefoot. She ended up tucking them into her belt. Now that Dare wasn't responsible for Rahne's punishment, she was being far more reasonable.

We were at the temple gate. Dare was seeing Rahne and I off. Dare's bodyguard handed Rahne a well-stuffed backpack. Rahne unhesitatingly put it on and didn't seem to be even slightly bothered by the weight. She was strong for her size.

"Some provisions," Dare told me. I nodded my thanks. That was a much-appreciated gesture. You can lose a lot of traveling time if you're required to hunt and gather along the way.

Then Dare offered me a small pouch. "Nyack silver," she said. Coins from the great city are accepted anywhere in the valley.

I contemplated the pouch without touching it. My kind takes an oath to avoid money.

"You're responsible for feeding a teenager," Dare added quietly. "She'll eat the contents of that pack in just a few days."

I took the silver. The Old One would just have to understand. Besides, the traditions were full of tales where the Old One listened to the wisdom of Lady Ororo.

Then Emma walked up to us. She was dressed for travel, with a cloak wrapped around her and a traveling satchel slung around her shoulders. She looked expectantly at me. And Dare was suddenly trying to hide a smile.

"Exactly what makes you think I'll let you tag along?" I growled at Emma.

Dare knelt at my feet, took my hands in hers, and then kissed them. Looking up at me, her eyes shone with a sincerity that was as breathtakingly beautiful as it was a damned lie.

"James, I invoke the ancient tradition of those whom we serve," Dare said softly. "In the name of the friendship between the Old One and the Lady of Storms, I beg a favor. Please allow my companion to travel with you. Please grant her your assistance and protection."

Oh, damn it.

That really shouldn't have been a surprise. Dare obviously took her position seriously, so she had studied both the written histories and the spoken traditions. The bond between the Old One and the Lady of Storms was... is... a powerful thing. Ignoring its invocation was both impious and dangerous. My kind has responsibilities when a priestess of storms makes a request. Those responsibilities turn to iron when she begs for help.

"You..." I began angrily, but I didn't finish. The only words I could think of were ones I could never bring myself to say to Dare.

Dare turned my hands over and then kissed my palms. She used her tongue -- and even for a man of my age that was shiveringly erotic.

"Impudent woman?" Dare suggested immediately. She was still on her knees and my hands were in hers.

"Manipulative wench?" Emma provided thoughtfully.

"Bitch?" Rahne added eagerly. I suppose she wanted to play along with the big girls.

I reached over and rapped Rahne on the forehead with my knuckles.

"Do not use that word," I said sternly.

"Ow!" Rahne complained as she rubbed her forehead.

I turned and stomped out of the gate. Emma and Rahne followed me. Behind us, Dare rose to her feet.

She wasn't even trying to hide her laughter.

* * *

 

_GLOSSARY_

_Blood -- from 'The Blood of Logan'. These are the descendants of the feral mutant lineage that includes Logan, Daken, and Laura Kinney. In the future, they are the largest population on Earth and their violent, feudalistic, culture dominates the world._

_Creed -- the descendants of the feral mutant lineage that included Sabertooth. They are psychotic and dangerous population that is being slowly and surely exterminated by the Blood and their own madness._

_Folk -- the non-mutant human race, now a minority population that occupies a subservient position in a mutant-dominated world._

_Graymalkin -- a shadowy investigative group consisting of priestesses of the Lady of Fire._

_Holder -- a Blood male who controls territory. It is possible, but rare, for a Blood female or a non-Blood to gain this status._

_Huds River -- what used to be called the Hudson river._

_Nyack -- an old name for the city now more commonly known as "the Towers"._

_Ronin -- in feudal Japanese society, this meant "masterless warrior". In Blood society, it means a Blood who is either an unmarried female of an unlanded male._

_Seeker -- also known as a 'Patch' or 'Howler'. This is a shaman of the Old One. These individuals wander the world, seeking the will the Old One via signs and omens. In practical terms, they serve the needs of Blood society._

_Samurai -- a landless male Blood in service of a Holder._

_Scatter -- Folk with powers. These individuals are rare and occupy an uncertain position in Blood society._

_The Old One -- Logan himself, filtered through centuries of myth and legend._

_The Lady of Storms -- Ororo, a legendary version of her is one of the three goddesses of the Blood._

_The Lady of Fire -- Jean Grey, another of the three goddesses of the Blood._

_The Lady of Blades -- the last of the three goddesses. She is a tripartite entity, incorporating Blood, Scatter, and Wilder elements. The historical origins of this figure are X-23, Elektra, and Psylocke._

_The Temple of the Three Goddesses -- often shortened to 'the Temple'. This is the 'church' of the Blood. The priestesses of the Temple and their servants are primarily Wilder._

_Thor -- Asgardian god. A tolerated cult exists that is sworn to his worship._

_Thororo Heresy -- the conceptual overlap between Thor and the Lady of Storms has resulted in the belief that they are somehow related. That's an opinion not particularly liked by most Thorians or the priestesses of the Lady of Storms._

_Wilder -- non-Blood mutants. They are a significant part of the world population, but much fewer in numbers than the Blood._

 


	3. Wolverine's World: The Grimm and The Green Bastard

WOLVERINE'S WORLD: THE GRIMM AND THE GREEN BASTARD

At the riverbank, I sat cross-legged for some time, contemplating the river. My pack was on the ground next to me, with my staff propped up next to it.

Eventually, I saw a strange, swirling disturbance in the river. The color of the disturbed water was oddly green. It lasted for several minutes before dispersing, leaving a long trail of froth that drifted downstream.

That was enough. I clambered to my feet. Emma and Rahne were waiting nearby. The people of Alban were giving us a wide berth, but several locals were watching from a discreet distance.

"Where are we going, sir?" Emma asked.

"Downstream," I said.

"What's there?" Rahne chimed in. She looked puzzled... but also eager to get going.

"We'll know when we find it," I replied. That was the best answer.

Emma accepted that without any reaction. Rahne obviously wasn't sure what to make of what I'd said.

* * *

Emma was haggling with a riverboat captain. Not surprisingly, she seemed to be doing a pretty good job.

"Sir?" Rahne asked as we watched Emma rake the captain over the coals.

"What?" I responded absently. I was still looking around for signs. That is, after all, what I do. And as a result, that often makes me seem distant and distracted.

"Am I supposed to have sex with you?" Rahne asked tensely. Her blue eyes seemed more than a little worried.

I did my best to hide a smile. "Not right now," I told her. "There are a lot of people around. At my age a man doesn't like to show his body in public."

Rahne took a long moment to absorb what I'd said before responding. She didn't seem to realize that she was being teased.

"But later..." she continued hesitantly.

"No, Rahne," I said gently. "That will not happen."

"Oh," she said in obvious relief.

Then she frowned. "Wait... why not?" she demanded.

My father used to say that with women there are frequently no correct answers. Time has proved him to be a wise and perceptive man.

"You're too young for someone my age," I explained.

Rahne's frown got deeper as she unconsciously ran her hands over the front of her tunic. She was a bit underdeveloped there.

"I'm sixteen!" she said defensively.

I shook my head. "That's not true."

"Fifteen?"

"You're still lying, Rahne. I can see it in your eyes."

"Will you be sleeping with her?" Rahne demanded, suddenly glaring in Emma's direction.

"I imagine so," I said after a moment of thought. If I had to make a guess, Emma would probably want to keep to her role of a dutiful Folk servant.

"I don't understand why the priestess wants her to go with us," Rahne persisted.

Actually, that was a good question.

"Priestess Dare didn't bother to share that information with me," I responded truthfully. Of course, I could make a good guess. Rahne - and her crimes - were well known by now. Emma was staying close to Rahne in order to see if any other heretics approached her.

Emma walked back to us, a slightly triumphant look on her face. The captain looked a bit dazed. Emma was putting change back in the pouch of silver that Dare had given us.

"I see you left the man his trousers," I told Emma dryly.

"They were too big for me," Emma replied with a shrug as she tucked the pouch of silver away in her belt. Emma was carrying it for me.

"Will you be sleeping with him?" Rahne asked - well, demanded - as she pointed an almost accusing finger at me.

Emma didn't even blink. "Why, yes, young mistress. And I'm looking forward to it. It's a shame you're too young to join us."

Rahne was obviously unsure how to respond. She gave us both an inscrutable look and wandered away to the end of the dock. Our packs were piled there. She easily hefted them and carried them aboard the boat.

A smile appeared on Emma's fact and then carefully vanished.

* * *

We left Alban an hour later and began meandering our way downstream. A dozen Blood and Folk strained at the oars. The captain manned the tiller. There were no other passengers. Emma, Rahne, and I kept to our place at the fore of the boat, underneath a tarp that had been rigged so we would have some shade.

We drifted past the old city center of the ancient city of Albany. The cyclopean ruins of the giant towers were all that was left. They were acrawl with vegetation and home to legions of birds.

A few miles past the ruins, we were hailed from an isolated wooden pier. On it, a large and bulky figure waved at us.

The captain chose to dock. And our boat gained another passenger.

He was a Grimm.

* * *

"It's an honor to meet a Seeker of the Old One's will," a deep voice rumbled as a stony, orange, three-fingered hand was offered to me.

I shook the Grimm's hand. It was like sticking my hand into an oddly warm and lively block of granite. I had the impression that the Grimm was being quite careful in order to not crush me.

"My name is James," I responded.

"I'm Abraham," the Grimm returned as he released my hand.

Abraham was a good seven feet tall and probably weighed over five hundred pounds. He looked like a small mountain of ambulatory orange rock. The most human-appearing part of him was a pair of brown eyes that were bright with intelligence. His only clothing was a huge pair of buckskin pants and a broad belt. He was carrying a large satchel.

There aren't many Grimms and they live almost entirely in and near Nyack. They are a quiet people who make a living by doing jobs that require immense strength. Generally, they keep to themselves and wise men know that they should be left alone. They are Scatter - people of the Folk who have powers. Many Scatter attempt to pass themselves off as Wilder, since Wilder are more accepted by Blood society. Grimms have always scorned that sort of thing.

As was only correct, Abraham didn't acknowledge Emma and Rahne, or even look in their direction. They were with me and I would introduce them if I wished.

Emma kept her eyes down. Rahne was staring in awed amazement.

Emma gently touched Rahne on the shoulder. Rahne suddenly realized that she was being rude and looked away.

"What brings a Grimm this far upriver?" I asked curiously.

Abraham smiled as he sat down with a solid thump. His back scraped up against the boat railing, peeling away slivers of wood.

"I'm hunting," he said easily.

Abraham wasn't carrying a weapon. Nor did he have furs or any other trophies with him.

"May your hunt find success," I replied politely.

* * *

Abraham and I passed the hours in conversation. He was knowledgeable about Nyack and particularly enjoyed talking about the politics of the city. There was a controversial new proposal to renovate the dock facilities with public funds. It struck me as just another case of the rich using everyone else's money to expand their own wealth, but Abraham was of the opinion that it would also ultimately benefit the common citizens of Nyack.

As evening descended into night, our boat anchored at a gap between the shore and a brush-covered sandbar. Some of the brush near the tip of the sandbar had been cleared away and - judging from the old fire-pits dug into the cleared area - it was often used as a stopping place for river traffic.

The crew of the riverboat cooked dinner ashore and unhesitatingly shared with us. It was smoked fish accompanied by a spicy grain and vegetable stew.

Everyone eventually went to sleep - except for a single Blood crewman who was on watch. The crew of the boat slept on or near their rowing benches. The captain went below deck and bunked with his cargo. We passengers kept to our place at the fore of the boat.

Abraham became a softly-snoring mountain range. Rahne curled up like a boneless cat in a space between two barrels. Emma lay next to me and spread a blanket over both of us.

I watched the moon rise as Emma vanished under our blanket and used her hands and mouth to entertain me - anything more strenuous would have been rude to the other people on the boat. The crewman on watch politely pretended that nothing was happening. Abraham's snoring continued unabated. Rahne's eyes glittered in the darkness as she disapprovingly studied what we were doing. Then she rolled over, firmly presenting her back to us.

When I was done with Emma - or perhaps it was the other way around - she curled up next to me, her head on my shoulder and a slim hand on my chest.

*Abraham is obviously not telling the truth,* she 'said' to me telepathically.

*Did you read his mind?* I thought back.

*Not yet. Do you wish me to?*

I shook my head. *Don't bother. He is no threat to us.*

Emma considered that for a while before replying. *I can sense he isn't hostile, but...*

"Go to sleep, Emma," I whispered aloud to her.

She did just that.

* * *

A few hours later, a battle broke out.

There was yelled warning from the crewman on watch. That was followed almost immediately by a terrific crash. The entire riverboat rocked from the impact as a loud, challenging, roar howled through the night.

I lunged to my feet. Abraham did the same, albeit slower and more ponderously. Emma sputtered curses as she rolled away - putting some distance between herself and whatever was happening amidships. Rahne leaped onto the wooden railing and crouched there like a gargoyle, the claws of her hands and feet extended as she tried to make out what was happening.

In the mid-section of the boat, where the crew had been sleeping, a savage melee had erupted.

Bone claws gleamed white in the moonlight. Folk boatmen were using oars as improvised polearms. A massive green form - even bigger than Abraham - loomed above them all, swatting at those surrounding it. As I watched, a Folk rower was caught by a powerful backhand. I heard bones break from the impact before he was knocked into a long arc that ended with a splash in the river.

Even if he was still alive, I doubted that he would be able to make it to shore.

"ABRAHAM!" screamed the green invader. It was so loud, that in the aftermath my ears were ringing.

Abraham's return roar was inarticulate, but just as angry.

I knew what had attacked us.

We were in trouble.

It was a Green Bastard.

* * *

"GONNA KILL YOU, ABRAHAM!" the creature roared as it waded through the Blood and Folk who were trying to fight it.

Green Bastards are a product of the deranged time when the Folk ruled the Earth. The Folk's experiments with perverted science had a habit of ending badly. The traditions say that the first Green Bastard came into existence when an attempt by Folk scientists to create a great bomb went awry. Others were created later. Eventually, there was enough of them to form a breeding population.

They are stupid, incredible powerful, and almost always angry. After the Creed, they are the second great racial enemy of the Blood.

I vaulted from the fore of the boat to the lower deck of the midsection. Abraham went down a low flight of wooden stairs - charging straight towards the Green Bastard. Rahne balanced along the railing, putting one foot in front of the other as she moved quickly and precisely to outflank our foe.

The Green Bastard was still screaming his hatred at Abraham when the two collided mightily. The impact rocked the boat again and knocked everyone else away. I almost went overboard. Rahne somehow managed to keep to her precarious position on the railing - I don't know how.

Abraham and the Green Bastard began throwing punches. Abraham was controlled and precise - looking for weak spots and openings. I could tell he was a practitioner of the old Folk martial-art of boxing. The Green Bastard, on the other hand, was wild and raging. Both were scoring on each other.

Scrambling back onto my feet, I came at the Green Bastard from the side. My claws snikted out and I raked the Green Bastard across the side of his face, slicing off his ear.

I dodged a wild backhand and struck for the exposed chest, but my claws skittered along the creature's thick ribs and couldn't find the purchase to plunge deeper. Rahne hopped down to the deck and circled behind our target - her hand and foot claws becoming a wild blur. Abraham found an opening and smashed a fist into the Green Bastard's face, staggering it. Some crewmen who'd been knocked down before were back on their feet and rushing back into the fight.

Green blood flew. It burned where it touched me and seemed to sizzle when it hit the wooden deck.

With a howl of pain and anger, the Green Bastard slammed his hands together. The resulting shockwave knocked everyone down.

Everyone except Abraham. He was just as immobile as he looked.

I smashed against some cargo crates that were piled up on the deck. I couldn't see Rahne anywhere. I hoped Emma had jumped to shore and was running as fast as she could.

Abraham and the Green Bastard were still hammering at each other. I saw an opening and went for it.

My claws ripped open the back of the Green Bastard's right knee, ham-stringing him. He collapsed to the deck and Abraham was almost immediately on him, raining blows down on his foe that were so powerful that the deck began to splinter to pieces beneath them.

I tried to go for the Green Bastard's eyes, but was clipped by a flailing arm. I went flying again and everything went gray and red when I hit.

As I came to my senses, I saw Abraham and the Green Bastard vanish under a pile of enraged Blood crewmen. I staggered to my feet and limped painfully back to the fight.

I was almost there when the Green Bastard made a supreme effort. Bodies went flying as he pushed up onto his knees and swung his arms wildly. He and Abraham grappled, their powerful hands tearing at each other. Abraham was obviously the worse off of the two. Blood - red and normal - was flowing from multiple places on his body. Chunks of his rock-like hide had been peeled away.

Then the Green Bastard got his good leg underneath his body and tensed to jump away.

Lunging wildly towards the two enemies, I tried to yell a warning to Abraham. But I knew I wouldn't be able to get there in time. If the Green Bastard carried Abraham away, he would be able to kill the wounded Grimm at his leisure.

But it never happened. Suddenly, a strange, shocked look appeared on the Green Bastard's face. Then he stopped fighting and his mouth fell open as he slowly collapsed onto his backside. He still had Abraham in a death grip, but he wasn't struggling any longer. Abraham broke free, staggered back a few steps and then fell onto his back.

Rahne, dripping wet from a plunge in the river, was on the other side of the now-still Green Bastard. With a disgusted hiss, she yanked loose the single claw that she had driven through the creature's ear and into his brain.

* * *

The captain was trying to get his boat in order. His rattled crew responded to his orders, beginning the process of repairs and reorganization.

Rahne was standing with her back to the railing, her eyes on the dead monster. I could tell that she was in the awesome presence of her first kill. It was a moment that demanded solitude.

I was kneeling next to Abraham. He obviously wasn't going to survive and somebody had be with him on his way to whatever lies beyond this life.

"Is it dead?" he whispered to me.

"Yes," I answered.

Then Abraham smiled crookedly at me. "It was mad. It killed for sport - all up and down the coast. Dozens of innocent people died. I left home to hunt it down. I chased it here."

"Why did you go after it?" I asked.

"An ancestor came to me in a dream," Abraham whispered so low that I could barely hear what he was trying to say.

"I understand," I said. Far better than most, I know that dreams have meaning. And that when the ancestors demand our service, we are obliged to obey.

Abraham's eyes began to glaze - the end was near. "He said I wouldn't be able to kill it on my own. He said I would need help."

"He was correct," I replied. "But we wouldn't have got him without you. You have served your ancestors well, Abraham."

And then Abraham was gone. I don't know if he heard my last words. I hope he did.

* * *

We threw the body of the Green Bastard into the river. It drifted off with the current, looking strangely small as it floated away into the dark.

Two of the Folk oarsmen were dead. One's head had been crushed. We searched for the one who'd been thrown into the river, but couldn't find him.

Another Folk rower was badly injured. He huddled in the aft of the boat, his body curled around a multitude of broken bones. Some of his friends were trying to help him with the medicines of the Folk, but I didn't give much for his chances. The Folk are a terribly fragile people.

All of the Blood were, of course, fine. The great gift of the Old One was with us all. Any injuries we had received during the fight were either already gone or well on their way to being healed.

When morning came, the boatmen buried their Folk comrade respectfully, just a few yards from the river bank, on a small rise that had a view of the river. They were unsure what to do with Abraham - his body was so unwieldy. They were about to settle the issue by also throwing him into the river when I intervened.

A reminder that Abraham had fought beside us - and fought well - was all it took.

"The day that is not respected by the Blood, we will no longer be the Blood," I told them. They all nodded in solemn agreement.

Some of the crew helped us drag Abraham off the boat and into a rocky outcrop. There, we piled stones around his body. Then I asked the boatmen to leave us.

I carved a six-pointed star on the largest of the stones covering Abraham's body. Emma and Rahne looked puzzled, but didn't ask me to explain. Actually, it's a symbol of a very old faith - most of the Grimm I've met have been adherents.

"Are you willing?" I asked Emma.

She understood that I was asking for the final ritual of the funeral of a Blood male. Some would say that such a thing done for one of the Folk was an offense to the divine. I suppose that many priestesses of the temple would have refused my request.

Emma nodded without hesitation. "Of course. He was a brave man."

I was beginning to get the measure of Emma. There was much about her that a man could admire.

I turned to Rahne. "Emma and I need privacy."

Rahne knew what was about to happen. She nodded and vanished into the trees.

Emma and I cleared a spot next to Abraham's simple grave. Then we made love there.

It was a particularly intense. Emma's final scream was born both of pleasure, mourning, and wild defiance. She gave life a voice in the presence of death. When we were done, Emma knelt naked in the dust and said a heart-felt prayer to the Lady of Fire, asking her to protect and guard Abraham's spirit as it left our world.

"Thank you," I said when she was done. I meant that as much as I have ever meant anything.

Emma nodded, and then took my hand in hers. Somehow, that seemed more intimate than the sex we had just shared.

"I tried to help," she said sadly. "But it didn't seemed to matter... the creature just kept fighting. Its mind was so crazed that I couldn't get inside."

"There was nothing you could do," I told her quietly. "This was all decided beforehand. Abraham and the monster were going to die. Nothing could change that."

Emma gave me a puzzled look, "What do you mean?"

I smiled sadly as I remembered an ancient war-cry that is only mentioned in the oldest of the traditions. Yet I suspected that Abraham would have known it.

"It was clobbering time," I told Emma.


	4. Wolverine's World:  The Proposal

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE PROPOSAL

By mid-day, we'd buried our dead and were ready to depart. With some effort, we poled and rowed our way back into the river channel and once again proceeded downstream.

The fight with the Green Bastard had done considerable damage to the boat. Some seams were sprung and the boat was listing as it took on water. The captain pulled all of the cargo out on deck and kept some of his crew in the hold, bailing it out regularly.

"We will have to put in at Cats Kill," the captain explained to me. "We need repairs and that might take up to a week. I cannot guarantee a timely passage."

I nodded. "I understand. I'll consider my options when we get to Cats Kill."

"I appreciate your help in the fight against that Greenie," the captain continued gruffly. "I'll refund your passage if you decide to take another boat."

Over the captain's shoulder, I saw Emma look up eagerly.

"Keep the money," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. My kind is not supposed to care about such things. And besides, the outraged look that appeared on Emma's face was more than enough to make my decision worthwhile.

* * *

The captain went back to his men. I sat on a crate and contemplated the scenery as it flowed past. No signs made themselves apparent to me.

Emma knelt next to me, every inch the meek and obedient Folk servant.

*For pity's sake!* she fumed at me telepathically.

*It's only money, Emma,* I replied calmly.

*Money is not an 'only'! Money makes the world go round!*

*Emma, I'm pretty sure the rotation of the Earth is independent of the number of coins in our hands,* I suggested.

"Excuse me, lord..." one of the Blood rowers said to me. We were drifting with the current at the moment, so he wasn't at his oar. Except for the men bailing out the hold, most of the crew were taking a well-deserved break.

Technically, I should not be addressed as "lord". I control no lands and have no holders or samurai sworn to my service. However, many ronin are careful when they encounter me. My position as a seeker is anomalous and many are not sure what to make of me.

"Yes?" I said, indicating with a wave of my hand that he could sit.

The youngster sat cross-legged in front me. He was a strong-looking Blood, with dark hair and the bronzed skin you'd expect from someone who spent almost all of his time outdoors. He had on well-patched pair of pants, but was otherwise bare-chested and bare-foot. When the weather was warm, that was how all oarsmen - Blood and Folk - usually dressed.

If I had to guess, he was somewhere around Rahne's age. Perhaps a year older.

"My name is David," he said nervously. Which was interesting, since during our fight with the Green Bastard he'd been one of the Blood in the lead every time the oarsmen attacked. He had proven himself to be a brave young man.

So what was bothering him?

"And what do you want, David?" I asked curiously.

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Lord... can you speak for the girl traveling with you?"

He was referring to Rahne, of course. Emma - in her role as a Folk servant - didn't count. Rahne was sitting at the prow of the boat, enjoying the breeze. She looked at us in surprise when she realized the conversation was about her.

I was about to say "no" when I suddenly realized that actually I did speak for Rahne. In fact, there was no other choice. She had no family and she was under my protection.

"Yes," I responded as I wondered exactly what the blazes was going on.

David took yet another deep breath before going on. "Is she eligible for marriage?" he finally asked.

Oh.

* * *

Rahne had an expression on her face that was difficult to describe. I've seen deer look like that just before you sink your claws into them.

Emma reacted instantly. She got to her feet, walked over to Rahne, yanked Rahne by the ear from her comfortable seat, and then more of less kicked her into a kneeling position facing David and I. Then Emma dropped Rahne's woolen cloak over her head, forming a make-shift shawl. Rahne clutched at it automatically, holding it closed at her throat. I heard an audible gulp from her.

The young woman who had just a few seconds ago been prancing about in a short tunic that fetchingly revealed so much of her was now almost entirely covered. She now looked proper for a discussion of this magnitude.

The path I have walked has kept me far away from any kind of domestic concerns. And generally speaking, I don't really hold with the traditions involved in this sort of thing - I'd always viewed them more with amusement than respect. But now that I'd unexpectedly found myself in a marriage discussion, I was suddenly behaving in accordance with ancient custom. The pressure of tradition can be quite powerful.

I looked David in the eyes. I was aware that his fellow boatsmen were all pretending to ignore the scene unfolding on the foredeck. Actually, of course, they were all watching. A boat is a small and often boring place. Anything of interest attracts attention.

One of the other boatmen mounted the stairs to the forecastle and carefully put steaming mugs of tea in front of David and I. Then he backed away.

I picked my mug up and took a sip. It was terrible, but I'm sure it was the best David and his friends could manage. David, of course, waited until I had taken a drink before picking up his own mug.

"I saw your courage in the fight," I said to David.

"I did my best," he answered quietly. Good. Bragging is considered an art-form by some Blood - after all, hadn't the Old One declared himself to be the best at what he did? But I've always disliked it.

"Your are ronin," I said carefully. That meant that David was landless. Marriage wasn't unthinkable - many ronin are married - but it would be irresponsible not to consider his status.

David nodded. "I'm a boatman. My father was a boatman and his father before that. We do not have or need lands."

The wives of boatsmen pull an oar or hoist a sail alongside their husbands. When children come, they tend to a home in one of the river villages.

"If I asked your captain about you, what would he say?" I asked bluntly.

David didn't hesitate. "He will say that I do my duty. I'm second oar and a watch-keeper, so I hold positions of trust and responsibility. I am saving money so I can someday captain my own boat."

I tried not to smile at how David subtly emphasized the word "hold" in what he'd just said. Perhaps he didn't hold land, but as far as he was concerned, he held something just as meaningful. Perhaps more so.

And maybe he was right.

I glanced down the length of the boat. The captain was unabashedly watching us. I cocked my head inquiringly.

The captain nodded in a silent reply.

Then I looked at Rahne. For a long moment, she did nothing. Then she gave me the tiniest of nods.

As I looked at Rahne, my eyes also met Emma's.

*He's a good boy,* Emma reassured me telepathically.

I looked back at David. "David, you are too young and unsettled. Also, you and Rahne really don't know each other. Marriage is not possible at this time."

David blinked, but kept his features composed. "Yes, my lord," he said, doing his best to keep any inflection from his voice.

"However, when we put into Cats Kill, you and Rahne may spend time with each other - if she desires."

The boy's face brightened. "Yes, my lord!"

I paused to consider my next words, and then let out a long sigh. "I should tell you to be kind to Rahne, but I'm actually sure she could kill you in a fair fight, so instead I'm telling you to be careful."

"Yes, my lord!"

"If you two get consumed by some silly illusion of romance and run off together, I'll track you down even if I have to follow you into the laboratories of weaponex itself. I'll personally gut you. And Rahne won't be allowed to have anything to do with another man until she's forty."

"Yes, my lord!" David choked out. Rahne made an "eep!" sound.

"And if you get her pregnant I'll make you eat your testicles. Do you understand?"

"Uh... yes, my lord!"

The boy was being rather repetitive.

"Now go back to work and don't bother either me or her until we get to Cats Kill."

"Yes, my lord!"

David jumped to his feet and ran back to his comrades. They crowded around him, offering their congratulations. No, I hadn't agreed to David's request, but now he would have an opportunity to woo Rahne.

Emma pulled the make-shift shawl from Rahne's head. Then she retrieved a brush from her pack and began running it through Rahne's wild tangle of red hair. Emma was smiling to herself and humming an old tune about springtime and love. She paused for a moment to give Rahne a kiss on the side of the head.

I must say, Rahne looked more than a little dazed.


	5. Wolverine's World: The Hero

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE HERO

There wasn't much to Cats Kill. It had a pair of docks, a few dozen houses and huts, a water-powered lumber-mill, a tiny marketplace, and a wooden palisade. Huge piles of lumber - cut and dressed - were piled on the docks and in empty lots adjacent to the river bank. A scatter of small farms abutted the village.

Cats Kill made Alban look like a gigantic city.

Rather than staying in town, I'd assumed that the three of us would camp for a few days while waiting to see how long repairs to the boat would take. Camping is my normal practice.

"We should stay at the inn," Emma suggested.

I frowned in surprise. "Aren't you the one who's always concerned about money? There are some woods about a mile up-river that look promising."

Emma glanced at Rahne. She and David were on the other side of the market square, examining some fine fabrics. The Folk woman tending the stall probably knew she wouldn't be making a sale, but seemed to enjoy talking about the finer points of her wares with a pair of curious youngsters.

I shook my head. "Oh. That."

"You're the one who said they could see each other," Emma pointed out with a sigh. "It wouldn't be fair to now keep them apart."

That was precisely why a seeker normally keeps his distance from others. I'm supposed to be serving the will of the Old One - not dealing with the vagaries of young romance.

"Two nights at the inn," Emma suggested. "Rahne can spend her time with David. You and I can spend our time in a warm and comfortable bed. After that, we can go find you a nice cave."

I gave Emma a long look.

"I find it disturbing just how good you are at using your sexuality to manipulate an old man," I told her.

Emma shrugged. "You're not that old. Bedding you has been a satisfying experience."

"So you say," I replied. I wondered if Emma knew how old I really was. Although she was a telepath, the priestesses of the Lady of Fire have a code of ethics. They swear not to use the gifts of Lady Grey lightly.

But Emma was also a member of the Graymalkin - and they have a somewhat different set of rules.

Then, in mid-banter, I caught a familiar scent. At the same time, there was a disturbance on the far side of the market.

A woman in reddish-purple leather armor was limping down the path that lead to the market. She was using a broken tree-limb as a staff. From her other hand dangled an oddly-designed helmet. And her armor was wet with blood.

I suddenly felt empty inside. Then I took off at a dead run towards the woman.

The woman's face had the pallor of someone who'd lost a lot of blood. Her armor had been rent in several places and there were a pair of parallel slash marks across the side of her face. I was amazed that she was still on her feet.

It had been a good three years since the last time I'd seen her.

"Uncle Jimmy?" she said wonderingly before collapsing into my arms.

* * *

"Save her," I said as I carefully placed the injured woman onto a steel-frame cot.

I could hear the desperation in my words.

The local doctor was an elderly Folk woman. Like most of her kind, she mixed the talents of an herbalist and a physician. The Blood don't have a lot of use for medicine. The Folk and Wilder, on the other hand, always seem to need medical help.

The doctor didn't even blink despite that fact I'd kicked open the door to her infirmary and walked inside with a half-dead woman in my arms. Instead, she yanked open the injured woman's armor, quickly cut away the cotton under-padding, and began examining her wounds.

I looked away. It wasn't the injuries that bothered me. I'd first known the woman on the table as a little girl. A part of me would always think of her that way.

The doctor began putting together the components for a healing spell. I breathed a sigh of relief. She had been trained as a healer mage in Greenwich Village. The injured woman's chances of survival had just increased dramatically.

Emma carefully took my arm. "We should leave," she said to me.

I didn't move.

"We're in the way," Emma told me quietly. "We have to let the doctor do her job."

That did it. I turned on my heel and we left the building.

* * *

In front of the infirmary there was a place where family and friends could wait. It consisted of a wooden overhang that sheltered a simple table and a crude pair of benches. There was also a stone fire-pit. Emma built a small fire and then brewed some tea - she kept a small kettle and a pair of tin cups in her pack. They were cleverly designed so that they nestled together.

"Who is she?" Emma asked as she put a cup in front of me.

"Her name is Rose," I responded distractedly. I was keeping my eyes on the road.

Emma raised an eyebrow at me. "Rose? Wait... that armor... You mean she's the Rose?"

I nodded.

"Is she an old lover?" Emma asked, giving me a stunned look.

I suppose I smiled at Emma's mistake, but it quickly vanished. "She's more of a daughter, actually."

Emma blinked in surprise.

"Her mother died in childbirth," I explained. "And her father was killed in the Longisle rebellion. I followed the signs and found her wandering the streets of Nyack. She stayed with me for five years - I gave up on being a seeker for that time. But eventually the Old One called me back to his service. Fortunately, by then I'd made the acquaintance of a family of elves. They agreed to take her in."

I paused, but I still had my eyes on the road.

"The elves were good people," I continued. "Rose thrived with them."

There was more, but I could not bring myself to tell Emma how I had spent a long night raging at the Old One - cursing him for making me leave Rose behind.

That was too private.

Or maybe it wasn't. Emma put her arms around my shoulders and squeezed gently.

"She has all of these crazy notions," I said softly. "She thinks that Blood, Wilder, Folk, and Scatter can create an equal society where we all live in peace. She wants everyone - even Folk - to have a say in how things are run. She thinks girls should have more of a voice in who they marry, and - like men - be allowed to have more than one husband. She thinks the temple should let men be priests and that land should be bought and sold as well as won in battle or taken from the wilderness. Her list just goes on and on."

"Some of that perhaps makes sense," Emma suggested carefully. "Although the part about male priests is clearly ridiculous and goes against both natural and holy law."

I couldn't help but smile at that.

"And you love her despite that?" Emma asked.

"Maybe I love her because of it," I answered. "When she was a little girl, Rose was always asking questions. She always wanted to know why things were they way they were. And any answer I gave her just resulted in another question."

A group of Blood - a holder and a half-dozen of his samurai - came around a corner and strode towards us. They looked angry, determined, and ready for trouble.

"You better leave," I said to Emma as I got to my feet. "I'm going to kill someone."

* * *

I didn't like the looks of either the holder or his samurai. They had the air about them of the kind who respected neither the Old One nor the goddesses. They had no code to guide them - only their own savagery and strength. They were Blood by birth, but Creed by spirit.

The traditions quote the Old One as saying that with great power comes great responsibility. These men would never understand that.

There was a fence around the infirmary - a purely symbolic thing constructed of white-painted boards. I stood at its gate. My staff was propped up against the fence.

In the stories, this would be a fine time for long and dramatic speeches.

"Go away or die," I told the holder.

"Kill him," the holder snarled to his samurai.

That was enough in the way of speeches. Our claws came out.

* * *

The three samurai on my right convulsed in sudden agony and froze in place. Emma had apparently not taken my advice to flee.

The three samurai on my left expected me to be distracted by an attack from two sides. They were overconfident and that cost the one in the lead his head. I shoulder-blocked his blood-fountaining body into one of his companions - tangling him up with a corpse that didn't yet know that it was dead.

The last of the left-side samurai actually did a reasonable job of compensating for the changing conditions of the fight, but unfortunately for him I was fighting decades before he was even born. There was a blur of motion on both our parts, and he was left kneeling in the coils of his own guts. Flopping onto his back, he began slowly and agonizingly stuffing them back inside his stomach.

The last of the left-side samurai disentangled himself from his headless comrade and made a clumsy lunge for me. My first slash took his eyes. My second tore open his throat. He collapsed and began drowning in his own blood.

By then, Emma's psychic attack was spent. The other three remaining samurai staggered towards me. They were still reeling from the after-effects of Emma's attack, but they were well-spaced and showing signs of recovery. And their holder had deigned to join them.

I knew what was coming. Two of them would directly engage me, while the other two would slip around me. It was a tactic with a very good chance of success.

Pivoting to the side, I went for the samurai at the near end of their line. If I could stack them up so that they were forced to come at me one at a time...

All I needed was a few seconds.

The holder was wearing a necklace. It was a heavy and gaudy thing made of gold and steel. Quite ugly, actually.

Suddenly, seemingly on its own, the necklace twisted itself into a knot. The holder - his eyes wide with shock - choked as he clutched at it.

Then the necklace compressed itself into a metal ball about the size of my thumbnail.

In a wild spray of blood, the holder's head exploded from his body. The expression on his face did seem quite surprised.

Rose was standing at the door of the infirmary. One hand had a grip on the doorframe and she was using it to keep on her feet. That other hand was clenched in a fist and pointing at what was left of the holder.

The three remaining samurai froze.

The fight was over.

* * *

"Get on your knees," I told the three uninjured samurai. I needed them out of my way.

They did as they were told.

I cut away the tangle of flesh and gristle from the throat of the drowning samurai. Then I turned him on his side so his blood wouldn't flow back into his throat. He began breathing again in spasmodic gurgles and gasps.

The samurai I'd gutted was laying on his back, moaning softly. I checked him. His body was trying to heal, but it would be a long and arduous process. Even if he lived, he might never fully recover.

That was all I could do.

"Go away," I told the three kneeling samurai. They fled - not even bothering to gather up their wounded comrades. Truly, they were a credit to their deceased master.

Emma was sitting at the table in the infirmary's front yard. She had a death-grip on her cup of tea and looked like she was trying not to vomit.

Rose was leaning against the doorframe. The doctor was now standing next to her, holding her upright. Rose's injuries were mostly healed - the doctor obviously knew what she was doing - but the spell had obviously taken a great deal out of Rose.

And Rose's armor was hanging open. Very open.

"Hiya, Uncle Jimmy," Rose said dazedly.

"Young lady," I answered sternly, "get back inside and cover yourself."

"Suuure," Rose slurred before letting the doctor escort her back to her cot.

* * *

Later that evening, I was having dinner at the inn.

Emma walked in. She had David and Rahne in tow. Both of them looked disheveled and there was hay in their hair and on their clothes. At the sight of them, a ripple of amusement flickered through the staff and customers of the inn.

"How far had it gone?" I asked Emma resignedly.

"We weren't doing anything I haven't seen you and Emma do," Rahne said tartly.

That covered an alarmingly broad array of possibilities. Emma had a wide and exotic range.

I fixed David with a baleful glare. "Remember what I said about your balls?"

David gulped.

"Unless my understanding of biology is wrong," Emma said she sat across from me and stole a slice of potato from my trencher. "There is no way pregnancy could result from what they were doing."

Very well. I'd set my conditions and the younglings were apparently obeying them. I retracted my metaphorical claws and gestured for them to join us. They sat down and the innkeeper's daughter brought more food.

Then Rose walked in the door. She was using my staff to support her, but she looked far better than the last time I'd seen her.

She walked over to us, kissed me on the top of my head, and leaned my staff against my chair. Then she plopped her archaic helmet onto the table.

"Thanks," she said to me.

"Join us," I offered.

David stood up and held a chair for Rose. Rose accepted the gesture gratefully. Maybe David was just making an effort to get on my good side, but if that was the case then he was succeeding.

"I can guess what that was all about," I said to Rose, "but why don't you go ahead and explain?"

Rose sighed. "I heard that some petty holder - the one who's now missing his head - was seriously abusing his people. I decided to investigate. I was asking questions when his samurai jumped me. I'm embarrassed to say that they surprised me. I barely got away in one piece."

Rahne looked at us, her blue eyes ablaze with curiosity. "Did something happen while we... uhm... did something happen?"

I nodded towards Rose. "She fought to defend the weak. I fought to defend her. There were some fatalities, but nobody worth worrying about died."

"Defend the weak?" Rahne asked with a huge grin. "You're like her! Like Rose! The Wilder who defends the defenseless!"

Rose smiled and glanced at me. I kept my face straight. Emma put a hand over her mouth.

"I suppose I'm a little like her," Rose said carefully, her eyes dancing in amusement.

"Have you met her?" Rahne continued eagerly.

"Yes," Rose said wryly.

"Is she as beautiful as they say?" David added quickly.

Rose shook her head. "No. I'd say she's actually a little on the plain side."

"I dispute the use of the word 'plain'," I said flatly. Rose has a rather squarish face and a broad-shouldered build. She's the kind of woman who's often described as 'handsome'.

Rose shook her head. "You're no judge. You've always been a sucker where women are concerned."

I just shrugged. There was no point in arguing. Besides, Rose might well be right about that last part.

"I should be going," Rose said. Her dark eyes met mine.

"Let me walk you to the door," I said. Everyone else was in the middle of their food.

On the front porch of the inn, Rose gave me a long hug.

"I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you," she confessed. "It's been a while."

"It wasn't a coincidence that we met," I told her. "The Old One brought me here. He wanted me to be here for you. I'm grateful to him."

Rose hesitated, but then she nodded. She's a skeptic about such things, but she cares enough about me to not argue about my beliefs.

"Get help," I suggested. "Build a band of like-minded warriors. That might save you from being surprised again."

"That's a thought," she admitted. "I'll consider it."

She kissed me again. I stepped back. She slipped her helmet - with it's odd 'Y' shaped opening - over her head. Then the steel studs spaced all over her armor began to vibrate slightly as a metallic tang filled the air.

Rose vaulted straight up into the sky. There were a multitude of gasps from the people on the street. Flight isn't that common of an ability.

She waved at me and let out a peal of laughter that was like a little girl. It reminded me of a time long ago.

I waved back, wondering if I would ever see her again.

My little Rose.

Rose Lensherr.


	6. Wolverine's World: The Will of the Old One

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE WILL OF THE OLD ONE

Emma and I had a room at the only inn in Cats Kill. It was late and we were comfortably dozing in each other's arms, slipping back and forth between awareness and sleep.

Emma opened her eyes and smiled. I tilted my head towards the ceiling and sniffed.

"Rahne's back," we both announced simultaneously. Then our eyes met and we began laughing.

Rahne and David had gone for a long walk in the moonlight. I had strongly suggested that they avoid any locations where they might be able to make themselves too comfortable. Fortunately, David had a midnight watch to stand back at the boat, so he was forced to leave earlier than either he or Rahne would have liked. Rahne was now by herself.

I stood up and pulled on my pants. Emma yanked a short red-and-white kimono from where it hung on a bedpost, wrapped it around herself, and belted it shut. Which was a shame - Emma had the kind of body that any man would rather remain uncovered.

"We should have rented two rooms," Emma grumbled as she fell back onto the bed.

Rahne was staying with us. In fact, she had declared the bear-hide rug in front of the room's small fireplace to be her personal sleeping space. That left the bed for Emma and I.

I frowned and strained my ears to hear what was happening downstairs. I could catch the slight back-and-forth of a low conversation, but couldn't make out any words.

"She's not coming upstairs," I told Emma.

Emma pulled me back down onto the bed, bit me on the shoulder, and then rested her head against my chest. "Let her be. She and the innkeeper's oldest daughter are sharing a piece of apple-rhubarb pie and talking about boys - mostly about how to please them with your mouth."

I smiled wryly. "Thank goodness the cause of education is being advanced. Perhaps you should provide an advanced lecture on the subject?"

Emma chuckled. "I've always been more practical than theoretical. Let me show you."

* * *

Sometime later, Emma decided to change the subject. She took one of my wrists and turned it around until she could see the knuckles and the back of my hand.

"I've never asked about this," she said.

There was a metal-on-metal snikt as I extend the claws of the hand that Emma was holding. She flinched automatically.

Then Emma traced a finger along the length of one of my claws. "The Blood I know all have natural claws. I've heard of metal claws, but I've never actually seen them until I met you."

"I got them many years ago," I replied quietly. "The process is difficult."

And agonizingly painful.

I retracted my claws.

"Is that part of becoming a seeker?" Emma asked thoughtfully.

"No, although many seekers feel it brings you closer to the Old One."

"Who did it to you? Was it the Iron Men?"

"No."

Emma was good a knowing when it was time to stop asking questions.

* * *

The lord of Cats Kill spent the night gathering his forces. The next morning, I went downstairs and found a dozen of his vassals and personal samurai waiting for me in the inn's common room. About the same number were waiting outside. It was a quite respectable show of force for such a small village, probably constituting almost all of the available fighting Blood.

Actually, in a way, it was rather flattering.

A herald - a young Folk boy - bowed nervously. Their were no actual customers in the common room. And even the inn-keeper had made himself scarce. That struck me as a wise decision. There were many ways this could go wrong.

"Honored seeker," the herald said formally, "the lord of Cats Kill requests your presence."

A dozen pairs of eyes watched me, glittering with anticipation as they waited for my decision.

This was to be expected. A holder was dead at the hands of the legendary Rose, and a seeker had fought the same holder's samurai in the middle of town - killing at least one of them. It was only reasonable that the local lord would want to talk to me. It was just as reasonable that he would want to do it on his own terms.

"Sir?" Rahne said from the top of the stairs.

I glanced up. She and Emma were standing side by side. Rahne had her claws out. Emma was in her kimono and nothing else. Both had dangerously determined expressions.

"Don't worry," I told them.

I glanced at the senior Blood samurai. "We better get going before my women start a war. I don't want any of you to get hurt."

Some of the samurai looked offended. A few stirred angrily. But the grizzled veteran just grinned lopsidedly and waved them back. And he didn't take his eyes off me for a moment.

* * *

The samurai escorted me out of the inn and towards the lord's manor. On the way, we passed through the marketplace.

A traveling puppeteer was giving a show. A few adults and a horde of children - Blood, Wilder, and Folk - were watching raptly. The subject of the puppet-play was an old one. It was about a son who discovers that his father's samurai had treasonously murdered his father in order to replace him with one of their own. At first the son is torn by indecision, but when he finally decides to act, the bloodshed is enormous. In the end, the son avenges his father, but his family, holding, and many innocents all suffered greatly because of the traitors.

I knew what that meant.

"Emma!" I shouted back in the direction of the inn.

Emma poked her head out the door.

"Give him a coin!" I yelled as I jabbed a thumb towards the puppeteer. Emma gave me an exasperated frown.

I so seldom have the opportunity to reward a messenger of the Old One.

* * *

The manor of the lord of Cats Kill was not large or ornate, but it was well fortified. It occupied the top of a knoll that overlooked the Huds river, and was ringed on the landward side by a semi-circle of smaller huts and houses. The lord's samurai and servants lived in them. If anyone ever tried to mount an assault on the manor, they'd immediately collide with a pack of furious Blood and Wilder who would be defending their homes.

The lord's hall had a severe appearance. The only decorations were war-banners and skulls. They were a grimly silent history of the years of violence that preceded and followed the lord's rise to his current station.

The lord himself was about a century old - in the prime of life for a Blood. He fixed me with a skeptical gaze as I entered his home. The herald had accompanied me inside. The samurai were all waiting outside. Given the circumstances, the immediate absence of the lord's most dangerous subordinates was a good sign.

A slender Wilder women knelt on the floor next to her lord, her eyes covered by a blindfold. A ceremonial long sword rested in her lap. She was a truth-teller - a telepath like Emma, though nowhere near as powerful. Her purpose was to aid the lord in assessing the truthfulness of what others said to him. It was actually rather impressive that the lord had one of them in his service. They are both expensive and rather picky about who they work for.

"My lord," the herald said. "Allow me to present James the seeker."

I leaned against my staff and nodded at the lord, but said nothing. This was his show.

The lord made a dismissive gesture and the herald gratefully left the hall. Then the lord examined me for a long moment before speaking.

"That dead holder was named Calvin," he began, "and he was not my vassal. In fact, he was quite arrogantly proud of his independence. What is more, he shouldn't have brought his fight into my holding without my permission. I do not mourn his death and it is not my responsibility to make an accounting for it. And I care even less about his samurai. However, I do not like it when killings occur in my town."

"I understand, my lord," I said. "I apologize for the disturbance. The situation was unavoidable."

The lord nodded. "Tell me your version of what happened," he ordered.

I didn't hesitate. "The Rose openly challenged Calvin's lordship - as is her right as a Wilder who lives under Blood law and tradition. Calvin and his men tried to kill her. She was injured, but managed to escape. Calvin was in pursuit of Rose when I encountered her. I acted in her defense."

Before responding, the lord took a moment to consider my words.

"That is also my understanding of what happened," he finally said. "Although you omitted the part where Calvin and his samurai attacked the Rose without warning."

It was interesting that the lord knew that. He had obviously conducted his own investigation.

"I didn't witness that particular event, my lord. Rose did say something about it."

The lord nodded again, still gazing at me thoughtfully. His hand reached out and gently touched the hair of the truth-teller. There was something about that... I could tell she was more than just a valuable member of his household. He cared for her. It was possible that she was one of his wives. At the very least, she was a concubine.

"I accept your apology," he said. "However, you and your adopted daughter are both fined fifty silver for this affront to my peace."

I bowed in silent acceptance. Emma was going to be furious.

But the lord wasn't done. "That samurai you killed violated a local Folk woman, but he took refuge with Calvin and refused to submit himself to my justice. I award you and your turbulent daughter fifty silver for settling that issue."

That balanced out nicely. "Thank you, my lord," I said.

The lord paused for a moment, still examining my face. Then he let out a long sigh before finishing. "Leave town before this day is done, James. When next you see the Rose, please extend my respects and ask that she avoid my lands in the future."

"Yes, my lord," I responded with a bow.

"Then we are done here," the lord said, dismissing me.

"No, we're not," I said flatly.

* * *

The lord's eyes narrowed and his body language changed ominously. By his side, the truth-teller quickly reached out and touched her man's leg, trying to calm him.

"I am no longer a wandering ronin explaining his actions to a lord," I explained carefully - it was important that I be as clear as possible. "I now speak as a seeker. Do you understand?"

There was a very long pause. Then the lord of Cats Kill gave me an abrupt nod.

"You plan to take Calvin's holding," I said. That wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

"Yes," the lord said unhesitatingly. That, of course, was the other reason so many of the lord's sworn Blood had been gathered.

"I have take the measure of Calvin's samurai," I said. "They will not fight. Instead, they will surrender and offer you their services."

"Probably," the lord said carefully. When a lord or a holder dies, his samurai either determine rank among themselves or accept vassalage under a powerful outsider. The lord of Cats Kill planned to move before Calvin's samurai could sort themselves out. Taking the Calvin's samurai into his service was a superficially wise decision for the lord to make. He would avoid a fight in which he might lose Blood. And his forces would be increased.

"Calvin made the worst kind of ronin his samurai," I continued. "Most of them are lost to both the Old One and the goddesses. They will be poor vassals, bringing you and your holding nothing but treachery and misery. And if you let them go, they will become bandits and raiders - a blight on the innocent of this land."

The lord's face was becoming grim as realized the truth of my words. He had been so focused on the Rose-given opportunity to expand his holding that he'd failed to think past that.

I let out a sigh before finishing. "Still... you might be able to bring some of them back to our ways. Trust your truth-teller. Listen to her counsel and your instincts. Accept only those who can be salvaged."

"Kill the rest."

The lord considered my words. Then he wordlessly bowed his head and crossed his wrists before his chest.

I returned the gesture. The Old One's will was now as apparent to him as it was to me.

As I left the lord's manor, I wondered how many would die because of what I had just said.

* * *

Emma and Rahne were waiting for me back at the inn. They were obviously relieved to see me walk through the door.

"Everything is fine," I said. That wasn't really the truth, but it was close enough.

Rahne - younger and perhaps distracted by other things - quickly relaxed.

Emma didn't at all accept my worlds. Her face tightened warily as she carefully examined me.

"We have to leave," I told them.

"Leave!?" Rahne almost yelled. Her eyes were wide with dismay.

"Go see David and say goodbye," I suggested as I sat down. The inn-keeper was back. Which was good - I needed a drink. I waved in his direction as Rahne fled out the door.

Emma sat next to me. "What happened?" she asked very quietly.

"I served the will of the Old One," I said as the inn-keeper put a tall cup of ale in front of me.

"And?" Emma pressed.

"And a battle will be fought that could have been avoided," I said after I took a long drink. "There will be deaths, and I cannot swear that only the deserving will die."

Emma took my hand in both of hers. Emma understood. After all, she also served something far greater than herself.

For a long time, I drank in silence.

"Did I ever tell you what I did when I was with Rose?" I eventually asked.

Emma shook her head.

"I was a fisherman," I ruminated. "I had a tiny boat that I found half-swamped after a storm. Rose would go out with me into Nyack harbor, and accompany me to the evening market with our catch. By the time I had to leave, she was pretty good with a net and a sail. I enjoyed teaching her. I enjoyed being her father."

"I often think of those days."

* * *

The parting of David and Rahne was as melodramatically tragic as you might expect. There is no love like young love.

"We're still heading downstream," I reassured Rahne. "With any luck, we'll end up on David's boat again."

Rahne didn't say anything. She and David just clung to one another with forlorn desperation.

"Do you often get thrown out of towns?" Emma asked me curiously. She was in the process of gathering our few belongings and sweeping them into our packs.

"I've never been thrown out of town," I replied with vast dignity. "Although every now and then a holder does invite me to go elsewhere."

Emma snorted. Then she pried David and Rahne apart. It was time to go. We had to get well out of Cats Kill and find a place to camp before sundown.

* * *

On the way out of town, a trio of elderly Folk women approached us and handed me a bundle that contained a dozen ripe apples, some cheese, and a few sausages.

"Thank you," they told me one-by-one. The eldest of them kissed my hands.

I gravely returned their thanks. Then they bowed and backed away.

"What was that about?" Rahne asked as we walked out the gate. The bundle the women had given to us was in her pack, but she'd handed around some of the apples. She was munching on one of them. Rahne was a bottomless pit where food was involved.

"That samurai I killed was a particularly bad character," I replied after I swallowed a bite from my apple. "He hurt a local woman. This is the kind of reward you get from very poor people. I hope nobody goes hungry tonight because of it."

Rahne looked dubiously at the apple in her hand.

"They gave us what they could because they thought it was important," Emma told her. "We should honor their decision and their generosity."

Rahne nodded - and bit into her apple.

At the gate, a Blood shepherdess was entering town, driving a small flock of sheep before her. She had black skin, long dark hair, and tawny eyes, but in age and dress she wasn't that much different from Rahne.

At her throat was simple pendant made of red glass. It was in the shape of a bird with its wings spread wide.

There are places where that symbol can get you in a lot of trouble.

I did my best not to react. Out of the corner of my eye I stole a glance at Emma.

Emma seemed not to have noticed.

I didn't believe that for a second.

It was a sign, of course.

But who was it for?


	7. Wolverine's World:  The Lovers

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE LOVERS

We were finally camping. There was a range of hills about two miles downstream from Cats Kill that had exposed rock outcrops. We found a comfortable overhang with a view of the river, swept out the debris and dead leaves, and settled in for the night.

It was cool, but not really cold enough to build a fire. So instead, we huddled together under a large blanket. Rahne was tucked between Emma and I. She nodded off quickly. After all, she hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately.

Emma and I silently watched the moon rise. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted regularly - calling vainly for a mate.

"I can see why you enjoy this," Emma said sleepily.

"It's not always this comfortable," I replied.

There was no answer. Emma was asleep.

The owl continued hooting, but there was still no response. I silently wished him luck.

* * *

It was still night when I awoke, but the moon was down. That meant dawn wasn't too far off. There was a fog obscuring the trees and stars. That was another sign that morning was near.

Rahne was curled up beside me, but Emma was not with us.

I scrambled to my feet.

"Hu'wha?" Rahne asked sleepily. Her eyes were open and she was beginning to get to her feet.

"It's fine," I assured her. It was an assurance that I didn't feel myself. The only way Emma could have left without Rahne and I noticing was if she'd used her psychic abilities to make our sleep particularly deep.

Leaving the shelter of the overhang, I began tracking Emma by scent. She was heading in the direction of the river. Off in that direction, I could see a hazy red light.

Moving silently through the mist, I followed the trail. I didn't have a clue what Emma was doing, but I didn't like it.

As I drew closer to the river, the fog became denser. However, the red light became brighter. The trees and rocks were grotesquely illuminated. The landscape had seemingly turned red and orange.

Squinting through the fog, I could make out an unclothed feminine form standing on a prominent boulder. She seemed to be staring out at the river. It suddenly struck me that the soft red light seemed to be emanating from her. It was a manifestation of her power that I'd never seen.

"Emma?" I called.

The woman looked over her shoulder at me. I could make out green eyes that were much like Emma's, but her hair was red, and I could now see that she was taller.

It wasn't Emma.

A thrill of absolute terror went through me. It was like nothing I'd ever felt before.

"Hello, Logan," the Phoenix said as she turned to face me.

* * *

What is the proper protocol for speaking to the deadliest avatar of a goddess?

I had no idea.

"I am not Logan, my lady," I said carefully. "He has been gone for centuries. However, I do seek after his spirit."

A distant smile came over the Phoenix's face. "I should have known. For your kind, it must seem as if so much time has passed."

Then she paused, as if further considering my words. "So Logan's not forgotten? Even after so many of your years?"

"Not so long as even one of the Blood lives," I replied without a second's hesitation.

She floated down from her perch on the boulder, landing softly on bare feet. The Phoenix was gloriously, intoxicatingly, beautiful. And now she was standing no more than a yard from me. She seemed to be studying me carefully.

"You're taller than him," she said thoughtfully, "but not as broad. And your face is thinner, but there's definitely a resemblance. And there is much of him in you. Your minds taste alike."

Then she glanced beyond me, back in the direction of our camp.

"The girl is much like you," the Phoenix added. "And I see you're continuing your grandfather's old habit of finding young girls to protect."

"We teach that if you seek the Old One's spirit, you will find it," I replied.

I took a deep breath and then let it out before continuing. "Oh Lady of Fire, where is your priestess?"

The goddess put a hand on her breast. Given her lack of clothes, that was distracting. And for a moment I thought I saw the body and the face of the Phoenix overlaying that of Emma.

"I'm borrowing her for just a moment," she said. "You know, I like this Emma far more than the original."

Then her eyes met mine. There were flecks of yellow and red amidst the green. Behind that I caught a momentary glimpse of black space and a whirling vortex of stars. I looked away. There were things in those depths that mortals were not meant to see.

"Be kind to her, seeker," the goddess said to me softly. "Emma is beginning to care for you - and that is a problem for her. She's like you. She's devoted her life to a mission, but because of the importance of that mission, she's not supposed to have attachments."

"What is Emma's mission?" I asked.

The bright smile that came over the Phoenix's face was like the breaking of dawn. "Why, she's supposed to protect the world from me! The poor, sweet, dear thing. Her and her kind - always watching and waiting for the day I return. They don't realize that in my own way, I never left."

Then the goddess leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. They were unnaturally warm. I felt her heat flow through me in a wave the radiated into and down my body.

All fear vanished. I took the goddess in my arms and kissed her back.

And then something changed. Suddenly, somehow, it was Emma that I was kissing. Yet the goddess - Jean - was still with us.

I can't explain exactly what that meant or how I knew it to be, but it was the reality of what was happening.

And then...

And then circling around us, there was something else. Someone else. I could feel a fourth presence. It was powerful and masculine and had the ferocious focus of a hunter.

It became part of me. I tangled a fist in Emma's hair and bit her on the cheek as a growl snarled out from low in my chest.

Emma pressed her body urgently against mine, her nails raking at the back of my jacket. "Don't stop, you bastard," she whispered. Her voice was both hers and someone else.

"No way, sweetie," I rumbled in a voice that wasn't completely mine.

* * *

"For pity's sake," Rahne said in utter disgust.

With a grunt, I opened my eyes. The sun was up and the morning mist had burned off. Just beyond a line of pines, I could hear the river.

Emma and I were intertwined on a large, flat rock. Neither one of us was wearing any clothes.

Emma slowly sat up and accepted the blanket that Rahne was holding out for her.

"The sheer hypocrasty of you two is amazing!" Rahne snarled.

"The word is 'hypocrisy'," I said as I searched for my pants.

"Whatever! You two keep me and David..."

"'David and I'," Emma corrected.

Rahne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she took another one. The she opened her eyes and went back to glaring at us.

"You two keep DAVID AND I on a short leash. But every time I turn around you two are doing... doing... this!"

"Ah!" I exclaimed triumphantly. I'd found my pants.

"Young mistress, could you step a little closer please?" Emma asked in a very tired voice.

Rahne seemed surprised, but she did as Emma asked.

The crack of Emma's palm against Rahne's cheek was hard enough to make me wince.

Rahne just stood there, her mouth open in shock, with a hand pressed against the red splotch on her face.

"We are adults," Emma said flatly. "You are not. Therefore we can do things you are not allowed to do. That is the way of the world and you will respect it. The master has made it clear that you have two limits with David - you cannot marry at this time and you are not to get pregnant. Given what you were doing when I found you two in that hayloft, you obviously know ways to be intimate with each other that don't violate those rules. So shut the fuck up, go back up to the camp, and get my damned clothes."

Rahne gave me a shocked look of mute appeal.

"Do you see my jacket anywhere?" I asked.

A wise men allows the women of his house to sort things out without interference.

Rahne glanced around. Then she wordlessly picked up my jacket and handed it to me. She frowned in surprise as she noticed the rents on the back.

"Go start breakfast - and get Emma's clothes," I added patiently.

It's difficult for a girl of Rahne's size to angrily stomp away, but she made a creditable effort.

"That didn't do a lot for your role as a Folk servant," I suggested to Emma.

Emma shrugged. "She already knows I'm not what I seem. She just can't make up her mind what I am."

Then Emma squinted up at the sun.

"When you became a seeker, did anyone tell you that something like this might be one of your responsibilities?" she asked.

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "How about you?"

"When I gave my oath, I did offer my body and soul to Lady Grey. Apparently that was more literal than I realized."

Her eyes met mine. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Absolutely not. And we should tell no one else."

Emma ran her fingers through her hair. "I suppose we could tell Rahne that we got drunk and decided it would be fun to screw next to the river."

I shrugged. "Or we could just tell her some of the truth."

Emma cocked her head at me, waiting for me to continue.

"We had visitors," I said as I pulled on a boot. "They hadn't seen each other for a while. We were able to help them get reacquainted."


	8. Wolverine's World: The Reckoning

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE RECKONING

The food the Folk women had given back at Cats Kill would be going bad soon, so Rahne made a large breakfast. The fried apples were excellent.

Emma didn't join us.

"Let's stay here for another day," Emma suggested distantly. It was obvious that she was deeply distracted. While Rahne and I ate, she simply stared at her food.

I nodded in agreement. Emma and I had much to consider. We had devoted our lives to higher powers. In the aftermath of actually encountering those powers, we had to consider what that meant.

*It seemed to mean a lot of grunting and groaning,* Emma mind-spoke to me.

*Woman, stop reading my mind,* I ordered - but my words were empty of any real anger. At the moment, her presence was actually comforting.

Emma gave me a crooked smile. Then she found a perch on some exposed rocks and knelt. Closing her eyes, she gracefully lifted her face and arms up to the sky, as if embracing it. After holding that pose for a long moment, she slowly lowered her arms, allowing her hands to come to rest on her knees. However, her face remained turned upward.

She gradually relaxed into immobility. Her breathing was steady, but very slow.

"She'll be like that for some time," I told Rahne. "Don't worry. And leave her alone."

"What's she doing?" Rahne asked. She was obviously concerned.

"Meditating," I answered.

Rahne's gaze shifted from Emma to me. "What's wrong?"

There was so much I couldn't tell Rahne. "Something happened that she has to think about."

Rahne gave me a long, careful, look. "It was last night, wasn't it?"

I just nodded.

Rahne thought about that. "Did you two do something... uhm... something that was really, really strange?"

"Yes," I said as I got to my feet. I stripped off my jacket and shirt. And I left my staff leaning against an outcrop of rock.

"Wait! What happened? Are you all right?"

"We're just... bemused. Stay in camp. And keep an eye on Emma," I said as I walked away.

"Bemused? What does that mean? And where are you going!?" Rahne shouted after me.

"I won't be far," I replied. Then I entered the trees and was gone.

Emma and I meditate in drastically different ways.

* * *

A day spent running the woods was good for me. It cleared my head. It gave me the opportunity to put what had happened the night before in some kind of perspective. I came to no conclusions. Instead, I simply accepted the events of the previous evening. There are things that must be treated that way.

The sun was near the horizon by the time I returned. My hunt had been succesful. I had a young white-tailed buck slung over my shoulders.

Rahne was obviously relieved to see that I was back. She quickly unburdened me of my kill.

Emma was in the same position as when I'd left. I watched her for a while. It was difficult to tell if she was even breathing.

Rahne was in the midst of stringing up the deer from a handy tree-limb when she noticed where I was looking.

"She hasn't moved," she reported.

I nodded. Rahne matter-of-factly opened one of her claws and began dressing the deer.

Then Rahne paused in mid-cut. "Whatever you two did last night? Maybe you shouldn't do it again."

Rahne was actually quite concerned about us. I reached out and ruffled her wild shock of red hair.

"We'll keep that in mind," I promised her.

Rahne smiled uncertainly and then went back to work.

"Oh - one more thing..." she said distractedly. "There are two people down by the river. They're burying the Green Bastard."

* * *

The body of the Green Bastard had washed up about a half-mile south of our camp. I tracked the location down by the scent.

The amount of effort it must have taken to give such a massive creature a burial was impressive, but it had been done. There was a large mound of fresh earth piled just above the flood line. A crude cross of the Folk faith had been pounded into the inland end of the grave.

A large canoe was grounded in the mud of the river-bank and carefully tied off to an overhanging tree branch. As I approached, a man was tossing a small camp shovel into the boat. A woman was with him. They both appeared to be Folk. They were covered with dust and sweat, and there was a veil-like tracery in the dirt under the woman's eyes. She'd been crying.

I made no effort to hide my approach and they spotted me very quickly. I crossed my arms over my chest to signal my peaceful intent.

The man eyed me thoughtfully. He was of medium height, but whipcord-lean and tightly muscular. His hair and eyes were brown. His features were mildly handsome - more a function of youth and vigor than anything else. He looked to be in his early twenties. He was dressed in drab homespun cotton and wool. There were some cloth wrappings around his feet. I recognized the style.

The woman kept to the background, but she was also eyeing me carefully as she play-acted at being a properly quiet Folk female. She was tall and slender and perhaps a bit plain, although her features had a strong sense of character. Her hair was fully concealed by a scarf. The rest of her clothing consisted of a loose dress that left her arms and calves bare, and a pair of scuffed and well-worn leather sandals. She was the kind of woman whose age was difficult to judge. Perhaps she was in her twenties. Perhaps in her thirties.

Neither of them seemed particular alarmed at encountering a strange Blood in the wilderness. But then again, they didn't have as much to fear as ordinary Folk might.

I knew what they really were.

* * *

"I'm James," I said.

The man nodded, his eyes were taking in my staff and necklace - the obvious symbols of my station. He obviously knew what they meant.

"I'm Benjamin and this is Faye," he responded.

"My companions and I are camped not far from here," I continued. "We had good hunting and have more than we need. I offer you our hospitality."

Benjamin hesitated and then glanced at Faye. She didn't seem enthused about the idea.

I nodded towards the grave. "We were there when he died. I think you might want to hear about it."

Faye's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think we care about that?"

"You care," I replied with a shrug. "There's no point in pretending otherwise."

Faye and Benjamin took a moment to consider that.

"We accept your kind offer," Faye said slowly.

Benjamin tried not to react, but I could tell that he was worried.

* * *

The sun was setting as Benjamin and Faye dragged their canoe ashore and concealed it under some brush. Then we walked to the camp. Benjamin had no problem moving in the dark. Faye carefully followed in his footsteps.

Rahne had built up the fire and was roasting chunks of venison on sharpened sticks. She'd sensed we were approaching - of course - and was already preparing two more spits as we entered the clearing in front of the overhang.

The deer's offal had been disposed of away from the camp. The hide was spread out on some rocks to dry, and the head was lodged in the crook of a nearby tree - Rahne would need it later for brain-tanning the hide. The remainder of the meat had been cut into strips and was hanging from a line that Rahne had rigged. A linear fire-pit had been built underneath it. The meat would be smoked overnight into jerky.

Emma was down from her perch. She was kneeling next to the central fire, keeping an eye on our dinner while Rahne dealt with other housekeeping matters.

I made introductions. Rahne smiled a polite greeting, but she was being cautious - as she bustled about the camp, she never quite turned her back on the newcomers. Emma, back in her role as a Folk servant, humbly gave a kneeling bow towards our guests. Then she went back to tending the cooking.

*Those two aren't what they seem,* Emma sent to me.

*I know,* I responded, *but we have a problem with them that needs to be settled. Otherwise, there will be a fight - and it will be a bad one.*

*This is dangerous,* Emma warned me.

*It will be even more dangerous if they gather some friends and come for us later on.*

Emma considered that.

*If they attack us, I'll deal with the woman,* she said eventually. *You and Rahne kill the man.*

* * *

Rahne gave two spits of meat to our guests, then one to me. She and Emma would eat when the next two spits were done. Rahne had been well-reared in the ways of the Blood. Her years without a family hadn't taken that from her.

"Our thanks," Benjamin said politely. Faye was distantly silent.

Our two guests ate without words. Benjamin finished before me. Faye just picked at her food. Her eyes were locked on me.

"You said you saw the Green man die?" Benjamin said. He had courteously waited until I was done with my meal. Faye tried to pretend that she was only mildly interested in the conversation.

"Yes," I replied.

"What happened?" asked Benjamin.

"A Grimm named Abraham was pursuing your friend," I began. "He was aboard the same riverboat as us. A few nights ago, your friend attacked the boat and was killed in the fight. Abraham died as well."

Benjamin took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he let out the breath in a long hiss.

"Abraham killed him?" Faye asked suddenly. She still hadn't moved, but the toxic scent of anger and danger was about her.

"No," Rahne said suddenly. "I did."

The camp suddenly became very quiet.

* * *

In the flickering firelight, I could see the first signs of change in Faye. Her eyes glittered like fire-lit emeralds as she examined Rahne. She seemed bulkier and her shoulders were broad enough to strain at the simple dress she wore. She had kicked off her sandals - her feet were a bit too big for them now. Then, with a yank, she pulled the scarf from her head.

Her hair was trimmed short, like a skullcap, in order to better hide it. And it was bright green.

"What was your brother's name?" I asked her. Now that she was partially transformed, the resemblance was clear.

Faye glanced at me, but said nothing.

"Richard," Benjamin said. His voice seemed very tired. "He was known as Rick."

Rahne looked away. It's better when those you've killed don't have a name. Or a family that mourns them.

"Rahne, tell them what happened," I ordered.

* * *

Rahne took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"We were on a river-boat," she began. "It was night and we were asleep. Then there was a loud crash. The whole boat rocked. I didn't figure out until later on that... Rick... had jumped onto the boat from the shore."

"I woke up and... and... Rick was there. He was yelling that he was going to kill Abraham. Rick was fighting the sailors, but he batted them away. I saw a badly injured Folk thrown into the river. I saw Abraham running towards Rick. Then he and Abraham began fighting. They were both incredible powerful, but Rick was stronger."

Rahne nodded towards me. "My master began fighting Rick. I followed. Some sailors helped us. But the fight was still between Abraham and Rick. And Rick was winning. Even with all of us fighting him, he was winning."

"I was knocked into the river. By the time I crawled out, Abraham was badly hurt. My master was injured. Many of the Blood sailors were down. Some of the Folk sailors were dead or badly injured."

There was a snikt as Rahne extended one of the two claws of her right hand. She paused to consider it.

"While Rick was hurt and distracted, I snuck up next to him and put a claw into his ear. It penetrated his brain."

"Then I just - stirred." Rahne added as she twisted and rotated her wrist. The tip of her claw described a figure-eight pattern.

Rahne retracted her claw and fell silent. She crossed her arms and put her hands on her shoulders. Rahne didn't look much like a triumphant Blood warrior recounting the glorious ferocity of her first kill. She just seemed very young and more than a little ashamed.

"How many died?" Benjamin asked. His voice seemed hollow and distant.

"Richard, Abraham, and three Folk boatmen," I said.

Faye buried her face in her now normal-sized hands. She obviously wasn't angry any longer.

Benjamin nodded sadly. "Was Abraham properly buried?"

I paused before answering. "Yes. I can tell you how to find his grave. Was he a friend of yours?"

"We grew up together."

I nodded. "I buried him under the six-pointed star. Was that correct?"

"Yes," Benjamin said quietly. "Yes, it was."

* * *

That night, Rahne slept poorly. She was riding nightmares and she whimpered more than once in her sleep.

Faye spent the night in Benjamin's arms. She cried for her brother until she finally cried herself out.

* * *

The next morning, everyone tensed as Faye confronted Rahne.

"Rick wasn't always bad," Faye told Rahne.

Rahne didn't say anything. She just looked at Faye, waiting for the fight to start.

"There is a thing we call it the green-madness," Faye continued. "It takes our kind and turns them into killers. When Rick was young, before the madness took him... he was kind. He liked to help others. He was a good big-brother. I want you to understand that."

Rahne's gave Faye a slow and wretched nod.

"I wanted to help Rick, but now I see that it wasn't to be," Faye added softly.

Then Faye took a deep breath and went on. "I already knew that I might have to kill Rick myself."

"Rahne - you saved me from that," Faye finished.

So in the end, there was no fight. Nobody else had to die.

* * *

I saw our guests off.

"What now?" I asked Benjamin and Faye. We were down by the river.

With a grunt, Faye picked up their canoe from where it was grounded and carried it out into the water. The boat looked absurdly large as it balanced precariously in her arms. She set it down carefully in waist-deep water and then expertly climbed inside.

"We'll find Abraham's grave and pay our respects," Benjamin said. "Then we'll go home to the Towers."

'The Towers' is what Benjamin's people call the part of Nyack in which they live. They control the high-upper floors of the old skyscrapers. The suggestion that Faye lived among Benjamin's people was interesting. By now, it was obvious that Benjamin and Faye were together. Many of the Scatter and Folk clans of Nyack didn't approve of that kind of mixing. Benjamin's clan was apparently quite tolerant.

"What about you?" Benjamin asked.

"We'll head downstream again," I said. "We don't have as good a view of the river as I'd like, and I hope to reconnect with our river-boat. I know a good spot with a better view. We can wait for them there."

Benjamin offered me his hand. "Goodbye, James the Seeker."

I shook his hand. "Farewell, Benjamin of the Towers."

"Ben!" Faye called. The current had caught their boat and she was now a good ten yards from shore.

Benjamin nodded to me. Then he turned and made a mighty leap.

Faye caught him in mid-air. The brief smile that flickered across her face as she held Benjamin in her arms gave me a glimpse of what Faye was like under better circumstanes. I hoped she would find that part of herself soon.

Once Benjamin was settled, they pivoted the boat and began rowing upriver.

*That could have ended badly,* Emma 'said' to me as I walked back to camp.

*Yes,* I answered.

*I was certain that somebody would die,* Emma sighed. *A Green Bastard and a Wallcrawler make for a bad pair of enemies. And Faye was in a dangerous frame of mind.*

*We prevented that,* I shrugged.

*So is the Old One pleased?* Emma asked. *Or did he want a bloody battle?*

*There are no signs either way,* I told Emma.

*Perhaps he's too busy to be sending you signs,* Emma suggested archly.

I smile tugged at my lips. *Do you think he's currently engaged with a fiery lady?*

Emma just laughed.


	9. Wolverine's World: The Shrine

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE SHRINE

Travel along a river bank is usually frustratingly slow, but there are a lot of good trails paralleling the Huds. We made good time and within a few hours arrived at a place where an ancient structure had collapsed into the river, forming an unintended pier. All that was left of the building was a jumble of reinforced concrete, but centuries of water-flow had rounded off the rough edges and rusted away the worst of the projecting steel.

I'd been there several times before. The first time, the building had still been standing. It had been a facility for loading river-barges with stone from a nearby quarry. Even back then, it was abandoned.

"We've got a good view of the river," I explained. "We'll stay here and wait for the boat."

Rahne gave me a look that indicated I was perhaps forgiven for the infinity of grievances she held against me where David was concerned.

A meandering creek entered the Huds just south of the pier. On the creek edge, a basin that had been part of the grounds of the old building formed a pond. The water inside was swept clean by the flow of the creek, and its bottom was covered with gravel and cobbles instead of mud.

Emma and Rahne took one look at it, dropped their packs, stripped off their clothes, and dove in. I've noticed that women have this peculiar need to bathe more than once every few weeks.

Using some dry driftwood, I started a small fire.

* * *

"Why, hello!" I heard Rahne say in obvious surprise. She seemed pleased about something.

I looked up quickly from the fire. I hadn't sensed anyone approaching.

Emma and Rahne were waist deep in the pool, staring at a large timber wolf. The wolf was standing on the edge of the pool that abutted the forest. Emma was carefully backing away from the animal. Rahne, on the other hand, seemed delighted.

Without fear or hostility the wolf seemed to consider the two women for a long, curious moment. Then she lapped some water from the edge of the pool, turned around, and vanished back into the tree-line.

The wind was right. I should have been able to catch the wolf's scent.

There was none.

"Come eat," I called. Emma and Rahne waded out of the pool. Rahne was looking at the spot where the wolf had vanished, trying to catch another glimpse of her. Emma's eyes met mine.

She knew that something was wrong.

* * *

After our meal, I considered our options.

"Rahne and I will do some scouting," I said after a while. "Emma, find a place where you'll be out of sight, but can keep an eye on the river. If you see the boat, hail them."

Rahne looked puzzled.

Emma nodded and began gathering up our gear.

*What's going on?* she asked me telepathically.

*There's something in the woods that Rahne should see,* I responded. *I think it may be important for her.*

*What?*

*A shrine.*

* * *

It had been a while since I'd last seen the shrine. I knew it was inland, but couldn't remember the exact location.

So we would have to search.

Rahne and I began exploring the area, sweeping through a crescent-shape that centered on the collapsed structure.

We slipped through the trees like a pair of ghosts, moving in an overwatch pattern. One of us would move while the other observed and waited. While slow, it was a very careful and certain way to scout an area.

I hadn't told Rahne what to do. We simply fell into the pattern without any words. Not for the first time, I was impressed by her instincts. She was a true daughter of the Old One.

I could tell that Rahne was confused. And a bit frightened. She was wondering if I'd finally decided to take her, and this was just an excuse to put some distance between us and Emma. I think she'd made the decision to surrender herself to me if I made demands of her.

All of that nonsense went away when we finally came upon the shrine.

* * *

It was located on a low hill that was mostly covered with young trees. A fire had swept through that region one or two decades ago. That part of the forest was still recovering.

Piled stones formed a low, semi-circular wall that faced in the direction of the river. It was about ten foot in diameter. In the center was a boulder, on which two more stones were piled. The topmost stone was about two foot wide. It had been crudely, but effectively, carved into the shape of a wolf's head. The cross of the ancient Folk faith was carved onto its brow.

Rahne was kneeling in front of the shrine. She was utterly still as she stared at it. Both of her hands were at her breast - clutching at the Mjolnir pendant that she thought Emma and I didn't know about. She normally kept it tucked away under her tunic.

"Don't be frightened," I told her.

She pointed shakily to the wolf's head. "That..." she began. Then she stopped.

"I know," I said as I sat cross-legged next to her. "This place has meaning to you. That's as it should be, Rahne."

Rahne looked at me. The distress in her eyes tugged at my heart. "What is this place?"

"The woman who built this had your name. She lived in the days of the Old One and the goddesses. I suspect your parents knew of her - that's why they gave you her name. You might even be her descendant."

Rahne looked once again at the wolf's head. "We had something like that, but smaller. It was made of wood and hung over the door of our house. I never asked about it. It was just part of our home."

I nodded. There was nothing to say. A Creed raid had taken away Rahne's home and family.

"What do you know about her?" Rahne asked distantly.

I considered that. "Long ago, your namesake stood at the side of the Old One and the Crippled Lord. Some call her the Lady of Wolves and in the wild places she is sometimes worshipped almost as if she were a fourth goddess. In other places she is called a 'saint'. That means she was a powerful practitioner of the Folk faith. She bore a powerful son to the Asgardian prince of wolves. Because of that, many Thorians acknowledge Lady Rahne in their beliefs. Later in life, she married a Blood who was of the first issue of the Old One. She became one of the Mothers of the Blood. So our people honor her memory as well."

Rahne let out a long breath. "That's... that's a lot. She had a strange life."

"Yes," I agreed. "So many different worlds came together in her. And for some reason all of them are coming together in you."

Rahne caught something in my voice, and she suddenly became wary.

She'd been too distracted to sense what was approaching.

I got to my feet and extended my claws.

There were seven Creed standing upwind of us.

* * *

The Creed were evenly spaced, about two dozen yards north of the shrine. Their approach had been patient and well-executed. Rahne had completely missed their presence. I had only sensed them at the last moment.

They ranged in size from well over seven foot to just under six foot in height. Their hair was blond and matted with filth and dried blood. They wore shredded fragments of poorly tanned hides. Primitive jewelry made of the bones of Blood, Folk, and Wilder indicated their tribal rank, in addition to boasting of their personal deeds of cruelty and violence.

Their fingertip claws were black and the savage smiles on their faces revealed sharp teeth with particularly enlarged canines.

They were all male. Female Creed do not survive long in their brutal culture. They produce some children, rear them as long as they can, and then die after one beating or rape too many. Captive women in their possession don't last long.

As a seeker, I follow the spirit and the will of the Old One. However, the path is not always clear. So I follow signs. I study the traditions. I read the histories. I consult with the priestesses. I've even talked to that Strange fellow.

But there is an aspect of the Old One's will that all know with absolute clarity. The Creed are the great enemy of the Blood and they must be exterminated. One of my most fundamental duties is to serve that cause, and to remind the Blood that can never rest easy as long as even one Creed remains alive.

We are slowly winning. The Creed have retreated into the wild places and every century there are fewer of them. But they are still a danger on the frontier's of the Blood lands.

But seven to two was bad odds. I had no illusions about what was coming and how it would end. The Creed are a dark reflection of the Blood - claws, regeneration, and feral deadliness without any trace of reflection, mercy, or justice.

Fighting a band of Creed in the midst of a shrine to the Lady of Wolves would be as good way as any for my long story to end. And at least I had been able to see Rose one last time.

But there was no good reason for Rahne to accompany me to our ancestors. I opened my mouth to order Rahne to run. I would sell my life to give her the time to get away, gather up Emma, and flee across the river.

Unfortunately for my plan, I hadn't reckoned for Rahne's boundless hatred of the creatures who had slain her family. She howled like a demon and charged right at the nearest Creed.

* * *

Rahne caught the Creed flat-footed with her savage fury. Flesh and bone split apart as she tore into and past he target. There was a hazy cloud of blood in the air behind her. Then she was behind the Creed and turning to attack again. The Creed were thrown into disarray.

Right behind Rahne, I hit the Creed. I tore out the eyes of the Creed that Rahne had just maimed and made a wild, speculative slash at another one that was grabbing for Rahne. My strike connected and his hand went flying through the air.

Two uninjured Creed piled into me, their claws digging deep into my body. The other three were going for Rahne - as a young girl, she was a priority to them. However, they were operating under the disadvantage of wanting to take her alive. At first, it was as if the three Creed had run into a sawmill blade. Rahne was a blur of lethal motion.

But there were three of them going after Rahne. They quickly encircled her. Rahne's moment of devastating surprise was gone.

I tore my way loose from one of the two who had me grappled. The heel of my boot connected with his forehead and he went flat on his face. The other had his claws dug into my side and back. I carried him with me, smashing my elbow again and again into his face as I staggered towards Rahne. Blood - mine and his - was flowing down my sides and legs. If I could cut Rahne loose, I would. If I couldn't, then I prayed that the Old One would give me the opportunity and strength to kill her before I was finally dragged down.

I couldn't leave this life with Rahne as a captive of the Creed. I just couldn't.

Suddenly, there was a howl. It was followed by a chorus of answering howls.

Then a giant gray wolf came out of nowhere, leaping silently over the wall of the shrine. It slammed into the back of one of the Creed who were trying to corral Rahne. The impact knocked the Creed flat. The wolf's massive jaws closed on the back of the Creed's neck and dug in with an audible crunch. He began shaking the Creed from side-to-side, tossing him about as if he were a doll.

Two more wolves leaped the wall. Another half dozen came around its flanks. They were of all colors and several different sub-species. I'd never seen anything like it.

Rahne used the distraction of the wolves arrival to dart off to the side, escaping the circle of her would-be captors. As she exited, Rahne - almost as an after-thought - gracefully reached out and opened the throat of the nearest Creed. Then the Creed was buried under the weight of at least four wolves.

Another pair of wolves tore into the Creed who was literally on my back. He fell away from me. I pivoted and slammed my claws through his eyes and into his skull. A twist of my wrist carved his brain like a joint of meat and severed it from his spine.

Wolves kept appearing. There were a dozen of them. Then two dozen.

And then yet more. I couldn't count their number.

The fight became a massacre.

The Creed simply disintegrated under our fangs and claws.

* * *

Our arms around each other, Rahne and I staggered back to the river.

Rahne craned her head to look back at the wolves we were leaving behind at the shrine.

"Don't look," I told her. There were several possibilities in terms of what might be going on back there. I didn't think Rahne was quite ready for any of them.

And besides, some mysteries should remain that way. It's a matter of courtesy and respect.

Rahne looked at me, nodded, then resolutely turned her face forward.

We regenerated as we walked. As I'd always suspected, the Old One's gift was stronger in Rahne. In very little time, she was fine, while I was still having trouble keeping on my feet. She became my crutch and I was grateful for that.

* * *

Emma met us half-way. She'd sensed that something was wrong and had come after us.

"Dear goddess... what happened?" Emma asked in horror, aghast at our condition. Our clothes were shredded and we were covered with half-dried blood. As she spoke, Emma's eyes scanned our backtrail for pursuers.

"Creed," I answered shortly.

Emma's eyes went wide as she once again rechecked the trail behind us.

"Don't worry," I reassured her. "They're dead."

Rahne gave Emma a wild and toothy grin. "Some family showed up and gave us a hand."


	10. Wolverine's World: The Shield

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE SHIELD

Rahne and I were trying our best to stitch together some presentable clothes. Our encounter with the Creed had left us both pretty well chewed up, but we - of course - eventually healed. Our clothes, on the other hand, were far worse for the wear.

Emma helped us. Both she and Rahne were a bit surprised when it turned out that I was actually passable with a needle and thread. Given enough years, you can't help but pick up a variety of skills.

"Is this how things normally go with you?" Emma asked curiously. The three of us were sitting in a tight circle, on a sunlit part of the pier. Rahne was wearing nothing but her cloak. I had on my boots and my only pair of spare pants.

"What do you mean?" I replied distractedly. I was trying to stitch up the long cuts on the back of my jacket. Actually, that wasn't due to the Creed. Emma and a close acquaintance of hers were responsible for that particular damage.

Emma gave me a disgusted look. "Oh, I don't know... perhaps I'm referring to the constant stream of desperate battles and mystical encounters? Is this a typical week in the life of a seeker?"

"Absolutely," I said with a straight face. "Although you forgot to mention all of the beautiful women begging for the privilege of jumping into my bedroll."

Rahne snorted - and then hastily covered her mouth. Emma cuffed her lightly on the side of the head.

"Stop acting like an ill-mannered virgin," Emma scolded Rahne.

"I'm not a..." Rahne began heatedly.

"Rahne," I interrupted hastily, "go do something that does not involve talking."

Rahne stalked off and angrily began feeding sticks into the camp-fire.

*She's not, you know,* Emma said to me telepathically. Rahne's hearing was actually better than most Blood. She would easily overhear any actual words that Emma and I exchanged. *She spent months by herself, with no family to take care of her, and...*

I held a hand up to forestall the conversation.

Emma sighed, put down her sewing, and gave me a long and steady look. Then she leaned forward, took my hands in hers, and touched her forehead to mine.

I closed my eyes and gently squeezed her hands in return.

*You men always think you can change anything if you're just stubborn enough,* she told me.

*And women believe that everything - absolutely everything - needs to be discussed at length,* I replied.

There was a ripple of amusement in Emma's mind. *Why do you suppose that two such alien creatures seem to need one another?*

I considered that. *Perhaps we're supposed to complement each other?*

*I think that's right,* Emma thought just before her lips met mine.

Rahne made a gagging sound. Without breaking the kiss, I tossed a rock in her general direction. I wasn't really paying attention so, not surprisingly, it didn't connect.

Then Rahne suddenly let out a loud whoop, startling Emma and I out of our reverie. On bare feet, scrambling from concrete block to concrete block, she sprinted to the end of the rock pier.

There was movement out on the river. It was the river-boat. The one we'd originally taken passage with. It was finally on its way downstream.

Rahne began jumping up and down, waving both arms, and yelling frantically.

The cloak that was all Rahne was wearing was flapping wildly. She didn't pause in the slightest.

Emma and I looked at each other.

"Perhaps I am somehow misunderstanding this situation," Emma asked in a tone of voice that was somewhere between amazed and dangerous. "Is she really waving at a boat full of sailors, while simultaneously giving them a skin show?"

"Yes," I said resignedly. "On the other hand, that should definitely catch their attention,"

And so it had. The crew had all dropped their oars and were standing on their benches, cheering wildly and waving back at Rahne. I could see David among them. The captain was roaring angrily as he tried to restore order on his vessel.

Emma got to her feet. There was an ominous air about her.

"Rahne is too old to spank," I informed her.

"That's certainly an opinion," Emma said as she began stalking towards Rahne.

* * *

By the time the boat was tied-off, Rahne was literally wrapped around David. He was standing in the middle of the boat's low forecastle, holding Rahne aloft by her thighs. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs locked around his midsection. Their lips were pressed together and they were in a world all of their own.

I shook hands with the captain as Emma began the process of prying the younglings apart.

The captain took in our appearance. "Did you run into some trouble?" he asked slowly.

It took some effort not to laugh in his face. "You might say so."

The captain decided to let that go.

"What's your schedule?" I asked.

"It's a day to the Point. We'll stop there for another day - I have some cargo to drop off. Then we go straight on to Nyack. We should be there in four or five days all told."

I nodded. Then I glanced at Rahne - and down at my own disheveled state.

"Do you have any clothes for sale?"

* * *

The Point is located on a high bluff that juts out into the Huds river. It is a natural barrier to the upper Huds. Back when the Folk ruled the world, the Point was a place of warriors. That part hasn't changed. The Point is heavily fortified and well defended.

I've passed through the Point many times. The Captain of the Point is powerful and quite wealthy. His samurai patrol the region, deal with would-be pirates and bandits, and keep the peace among the lesser lords and freeholders. His boats and ships control a long stretch of the river. Merchants and boat-men pay his tolls and make profitable use of his counting-houses, docks, market-places, and warehouses. The Nyack merchant guilds keep substantial operations at the Point and pay well for the privilege.

The Point is a strange place, with odd customs that you will find nowhere else. For one thing, it's the only place I know of where the lord is one of the Folk.

"A Folk? Really?" Rahne said slowly. Our boat was in the process of tying off at a dock. A samurai was already aboard - and his men were waiting on the dock. Our captain had resignedly handed over the docking fee.

I nodded. "Yes. It's always been that way."

Rahne frowned skeptically. "I've heard of Wilder and even Scatter becoming lords, but never Folk."

"It's extremely rare," Emma said. "Normally, it's because the Folk lord has made common cause with others."

I nodded. "The Captain does have powerful friends."

Rahne frowned at the boat captain.

"Not him," I chuckled. "The lord of the Point is always addressed as 'Captain'."

Rahne's frown deepened. She was obviously confused. "Why?"

The tale was too long to tell, so I just shrugged. "It's a matter of custom and history."

"The Blood tolerate this?" Rahne persisted. "Why? He's just Folk."

"Watch your mouth, girl," the leading samurai growled irritably. He was back on the dock with his men. They'd overheard us - and some of them were looking distinctly offended. The multi-colored badge of the Point was on the shoulders of the samurai. They served the Captain with their lives and that included defending his name.

Emma hurriedly got in front of Rahne and bowed low in the samurai's direction. "Our pardon, sir. The girl is of the age that any notion that occurs to her springs immediately out of her mouth. And there's this boy she can't wait to spread her legs for - that's making her even sillier than usual."

"What?" Rahne gasped in wide-eyed astonishment. The look she was giving Emma was priceless.

The older samurai's eyes suddenly cleared and he nodded knowingly. "Oh... I have two girls about that age. I know how that is. They grow tits and go crazy."

"What?" Rahne repeated. Her voice was distinctly higher this time. I stood next to Rahne and put a hand over her mouth. She slumped in resignation.

"It'll get better in a year or two," I assured him, "but in the meantime, it can be trying."

The samurai grinned and was about to say something in response when he finally got his first clear look at me. He paused for a moment and then carefully bowed his head.

"Greetings, seeker James," he said respectfully. I didn't recognize him, but the Point is a fair-sized town and it had been some years since the last time I'd stopped there.

I took a moment to examine the squad of samurai on the dock. Any hostility they might have felt was clearly dissipating. Perhaps it would be best to help it along.

"The Old One is gone, but his spirit remains..." I quietly quoted the ancient words. Some things do not need to be shouted.

"We remember the Old One," the lead samurai, his men, the nearby sailors, several dock-workers, Emma, and Rahne all chorused together.

"...and he is with us," I finished.

Everyone growled their agreement.

And that was how it should be.

* * *

We climbed up the narrow stairs that had been carved in the bluff face. The docks are quite separate from the town that is the true heart of the Point.

Once we were atop the bluff, Emma left in search of a room. Yes, she'd once again whispered enticing words in my ears and... yes... I'd once again fallen for it. The woman wasn't even bothering to hide her deviousness any longer.

Rahne and I went elsewhere. There's a place I had a responsibility to visit whenever I was in town.

"Another shrine?" Rahne asked nervously. "We just went to a shrine. Remember what happened?"

"This one promises to be less dangerous," I responded. Rahne didn't say anything. She was being cooperative - I'd promised that she could see David once he was done with his duties aboard the boat.

Rahne looked around curiously. Some buildings of the Point are ancient, made of brick and mortar in a style nobody uses any longer. Most are more recent and more typical of the Blood. They're constructed of timber and cut-stone.

There's a cemetery in the grounds of the Point. Many of the graves dated back to the days before the rise of the Blood. For centuries, the Captains of the Point have honorably maintained those graves. An oath was made long ago and it was being dutifully kept. That was a deed to respect.

In the center of the graveyard was a stone structure that at first glance appeared to be a tomb. In fact, it was not.

Standing guard before the tomb, wearing armor of black and gray, was an Iron Man.

* * *

The alliance between the Captains of the Point and the Iron Men was ancient. The Iron Men are Folk who maintain the venerable - some would say 'evil' - sciences of the old times. While their fortress is located in Nyack, the Iron Men always keep at least one of their number at the Point. That presence was a very visible symbol of the alliance between the Captains and the Iron Men.

An Iron Man is an awesome sight, standing almost seven foot tall and armored from head to foot. Over the years, the various suits of armor worn by the Iron Men have been noted. There are six suits in common use, but more are available in case of emergencies. At the Battle of Tyrants, almost two centuries ago, the Iron Men deployed ten suits of armor. One was particularly huge - over ten foot tall - but lacking the ability to fly. It has not been seen since and there was speculation that it was no longer functional.

As we approached the Iron Man, Rahne edged closer to me. I glanced at her. Rahne's blues eyes were tense and worried.

"Don't be frightened," I told to her as I ran a hand over her tangle of red hair, smoothing it down.

She nodded and put on a calm face. But she also took my hand in hers.

My brave little Rahne.

* * *

The Iron Man was standing between us and the door. I bowed my head politely before speaking.

"In the name of the Old One, I wish to enter," I said.

Close up, the armor was quite intimidating. There was no sign of the man - or woman - inside. Even the helm's eye-slits were set with a yellow glass that did not allow for a glimpse of the eyes inside. The helm moved slightly as the Iron Man considered our request. Then a steel-clad arm reached out and rapped twice on the timbered door.

There was steel plate etched with fine engraving on the Iron Man's upper-arm. It was a long list of all those who had worn the armor. The first name on the list belonged to a man named Rhodes. Next to his name was a symbol of a globe and an anchor.

After a pause, the door swung open. A heavily-built Folk samurai wearing plate armor, but without a helmet, held the door open as he silently considered us. I knew him.

"Hello, Dane."

The samurai's face remained professionally expressionless.

"Honored seeker, it's been a while," he replied formally. "Please enter."

Three other armored samurai stood against the far walls - being a guard there was an honor reserved for the most experienced and trusted of their kind. The inside of the structure was better lit than you might have guessed from the outside. The roof and upper walls have narrow slits cleverly carved in them to admit light. The light focuses in the center of the room.

Dane got out of our way and allowed us to enter.

"Do as I do," I told Rahne quietly.

Then we approached the Shield. It rested on a plain wooden platform, held up so that it faced the doorway. The paint on the Shield was battered and scratched from long-ago battles, but you could still see the old, deceptively simple, heraldry. The red and blue concentric circles, with a white, five-pointed, star in the center.

I clapped my hands twice to let the ancient spirits know we were there. Then I bowed carefully. After a brief moment of hesitation, Rahne copied me.

However, as had always been the case, the spirits already knew of our presence.

I am not a seeker by choice. Instead, that choice was made for me when I discovered that I could see and sense things that others cannot. So I could feel the massive presence of the spirits unfolding all around us. There were thousands and thousands of them. They were the ghosts of Folk warriors - a host so huge that the modern world doesn't even have a word to encompass their number. They were the not-gone of unimaginably vast wars. To my eyes, they were clad in blue, gray, green, tan, and camouflage, and their hooded eyes were upon us, patiently waiting and watching for something that we who still live cannot completely understand.

As always, it seemed as if one of the ghosts loomed above the others. I met his eyes and he seemed to nod at me.

He knew me. Or rather, he knew who and what I represented.

The weight of all that was nearly too much. I wavered. Dane - he was standing right behind Rahne and I - grabbed me by the shoulder. Rahne quickly wrapped her arms around my midsection, helping to steady me.

"The Old One is gone, but his spirit remains..." Dane said softly.

Some things do not need to be shouted.

"We remember the Old One," Rahne and I responded.

"...and he is with us," Dane finished.

The ancient spirit watching us seemed to nod in response. Then he was gone, vanished into the multitude of his eternal companions.

There is more than one Old One.


	11. Wolverine's World: The Bard

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE BARD

Of course, it was no problem for Rahne and I to track down Emma. We just followed her scent from where we'd last seen her. While we'd been visiting the Shield, Emma had found us a moderately-priced inn. I couldn't help but wonder how long our money would last if we kept spending it for rooms. On the other hand, our recent camping efforts were notable for having become quite extreme.

Maybe Emma had a point.

I was tired after my experience at the Shield. However, there were some comfortable chairs by the fire in the common-room of the inn. I planted myself in one and dozed off.

Emma woke me after an hour or so.

"There are two men who wish to see you," she told me. She seemed puzzled.

I looked around. Rahne wasn't anywhere to be seen. Her scent was also absent.

"She's off with David," Emma said in response to my unspoken question. "I made all of the appropriate threats on your behalf."

I nodded. Two men - one Folk and the other Blood - were standing just inside the inn's front door. Both had the weather-worn appearance of men used to working outdoors and with their hands. They also had a diffident, yet determined, look about them.

I gestured for them to approach.

"Good day, lord James," the Blood said respectfully. "My name is Kurt."

"My name is Isiah," added the Folk. "Kurt and I both hold lands here. And we seek your counsel."

The fact that one of the two holders was Folk was not unusual in those parts. It was a result of the long reign of the Captains. The local Folk farmers had a reputation for industry and innovation.

"What do you need of me?" I asked. Actually, I had a suspicion that I knew what was wrong.

Kurt glanced at Isiah and then answered for them both. "There is a boundary disagreement that we need settled. Your word is respected, honored seeker, so it has been suggested we speak with you about this matter."

Emma - standing quietly off to one side - was definitely giving me a confused look.

I raised an eyebrow in the direction of Kurt and Isiah. "And what does your lord have to say about this? I do not want to trespass on his prerogatives."

Isiah spoke up. "We have different lords. My lord is the Captain. Kurt's lord is Drake - a Blood who is not sworn to the Captain."

Ah. That could get difficult - the kind of difficult that might result in a pitched battle between samurai. And if their lords became involved in their disagreement, and violence was the result, there was no predicting the outcome. Both men could find their holdings devastated. Decades of hard labor might be undone in just a few days.

There's a saying: when buffalo fight, all who suffers is the grass.

"So you want the issue settled, but you don't want to start a war in the process," I said.

Both holders nodded simultaneously.

"It appears that neither one of you is an idiot," I observed - actually, they were both being quite responsible, "so why don't you settle this yourselves?"

"We're not fools, but many of our uncles and brothers are," the Blood said with a disgusted roll of his eyes.

Ah, the wonders of an extended family. This had become a clan issue to both sides. Some hotheads might not accept an otherwise reasonable decision unless it had the imprint of some kind of authority.

"It would be best if this was decided permanently," added the Folk. "If this judgement is made by a seeker of the Old One, it will be something that our families or lords will not revisit in a generation or so."

"And who better to make such a decision then one who knows the spirit of the Old One?" Kurt added.

That made sense. They needed an outside decision that had an aura of authority.

"Innkeeper?" I called over my shoulder.

The innkeeper approached us warily.

"These two holders have requested I render a judgement about a property-line." Then I paused and glanced at the two holders, seeking that they confirm my words.

They both nodded simultaneously. The innkeeper pursed his lips for a moment, and then nodded in return.

"The three of you are my witnesses that I make no claims upon the authority of either the Captain or lord Drake. I am simply discussing a minor issue with two local holders who wish to hear the wisdom of the Old One."

"Yes, honored one," all three men chorused. Kurt and Isiah both looked relieved.

"You have a map?" I asked the two farmers.

The Folk eagerly pulled a folded piece of paper out of his coat.

I glanced at the innkeeper. "We'll need some whiskey to smooth the negotiations. Something strong."

As the map was unfolded and the two holders began recounting a confused, generations-old history of competing claims and counter-claims, a bottle and three glasses appeared. Looking a bit surprised by what was happening, Emma filled the glasses and passed them around.

* * *

It was well after midnight when Rahne returned to the inn.

I was back to dozing in a common room chair, but I opened an eye when Rahne entered. She nodded at me and curled up in the chair opposite mine. She was wearing the simple blue and white dress we'd bought as a replacement for her girlish tunic. And she'd finally started wearing the sandals that Dare had given her. It was odd how those two simple things combined to make her look a few years older. Now she seemed like a young woman, not an older girl.

Emma was upstairs, in bed. Rahne and I were alone except for the Folk innkeeper. He was sitting at a table, going over his daily accounts.

"Waiting for me?" Rahne asked mischievously. She'd relaxed quite a bit around me ever since the fight at the shrine. I assumed she'd finally realized that I wasn't interested in her as a bed partner.

I picked up a glass of whiskey that was on a small stand next to my chair. After I heard out Kurt and Isiah, I drew a line on a map for them. Then I directed Kurt to give Isiah some livestock to counterbalance a quality difference in the land that Isiah had pointed out. Both seemed satisfied - and relieved - with the decision. As recompense for my time, they gifted me with two bottles of the negotiating whiskey we had been drinking.

I was more than satisfied with their generosity.

"I was enjoying a drink and dozed off," I told Rahne as I held up my glass.

Rahne's nose wrinkled at the scent. She wasn't used to alcohol and so far had shown no particular interest in acquiring a taste for it.

Then I looked at her closer. "Are you wearing makeup?" I asked.

Rahne grinned impishly. "Emma has some makeup in her kit. She showed me a few tricks. David loved it - he kept telling me how pretty I looked."

Then she paused... watching me carefully.

I took a sip from my glass. "You look nice," I said mildly.

Rahne stared me for a long moment. Then she let out a sigh. "I was hoping you'd get mad and start yelling that I was wandering around town made-up like a common whore."

"You don't look like a prostitute," I pointed out. "And Emma did a subtle job with your war-paint. I trust her judgement with this sort of thing."

Rahne was quiet for a while, her head cocked in my direction and the light from the fire playing through her red hair, casting alternating patterns of red and yellow and dark.

It reminded me of the Phoenix.

I quickly banished that thought.

"So just who is Emma?" Rahne asked slowly. "She's not really a Folk servant."

That was a question I didn't particularly want to answer, but I also didn't want to lie. I took a moment to consider my options.

Then a higher power - I'm not sure which one - intervened on my behalf.

The door to the inn flew open. An elvish woman walked in, somehow making that simple deed look like a grand entrance. She was carrying a travelling satchel and a guitar case. Her traveling clothes had once been obviously expensive and fancy, but now they were more than a little worn.

She had all the classical features of an elf - a slender frame, yellow eyes, dark hair and skin, and three-digit hands and feet. And, of course, the infamous tail. Hers seemed to have an impertinent life of its own as it danced languidly behind her.

And she was beautiful.

Just as beautiful as I remembered.

"Innkeeper! Your finest room!" she called.

The innkeeper let out a long sigh - and carefully put the coins he had been counting back into a small strong-box and locked it shut.

"Same deal as always," he answered grumpily, "you perform for a night, you get one meal and a place to sleep in the stables. Any coins you earn are yours."

The elf dropped her satchel carelessly, her guitar case carefully, and then doffed her hat and gave the innkeeper a sweeping bow.

"Then I'm on for tomorrow night," she suggested after she straightened up. "I hope an advance on the meal and a place to sleep is a reasonable request?"

The innkeeper nodded towards the common pot. There was still some stew left. Then he took a bowl and a spoon from behind the bar and handed them to the elf.

"I'll perform nude if you toss in a hot bath," the elf finagled cheerfully.

The innkeeper just rolled his eyes. "You know we aren't that kind of place. But I can't have you stinking like a muskrat when you play - tell Sarah I said it was okay if you had a bath."

The elf nodded amiably. Then her eyes settled on me. And all of her grand excess seemed to flee.

"James," she said quietly.

I drained my whiskey, put the glass down, and got to my feet.

"Hello, Anna," I replied.

Anna took two long strides, grabbed me by the front of my new shirt, and dragged me in for a long kiss.

* * *

I put my glass in front of Anna and filled it to the brim. Anna took a long appreciative drink and then shoveled more stew into her mouth. The only thing Anna did delicately was her music.

"Who'ze tha?" Anna mumbled through a full mouth as she pointed a spoon at Rahne.

Rahne hadn't left. She was obviously hanging on every word of this particular conversation.

"Rahne, meet Anna. Anna, meet Rahne," I said resignedly. I was fairly sure that nothing good was going to come of this meeting.

Anna swallowed her food. Then she gave me a concerned look. "Oh, James! Tell me you haven't turned into one of those old fools who tries to reclaim their youth with under-aged bed partners!"

"No," I said through gritted teeth. Anna was good at getting that kind of reaction from me. "She's just traveling with me."

"You usually travel by yourself," Anna replied skeptically.

"A storm priestess made him do it," Rahne interjected helpfully. "He's with me and a really scary lady named Emma."

"Who's Emma?" Anna asked.

"She's supposed to be a Folk servant, but she's not," Rahne replied eagerly. "She's upstairs right now. She and James screw all the time."

Anna gave me a speculative look. "Is this Emma a possessive sort of woman? How does she feel about three-in-a-bed?"

"Anna..." I said warningly.

She just laughed. "Oh, don't you take the tone with me! Remember that time in Pawkips? When you caught me with that pair of ronin girls? And we invited you to join in? That was a night to remember!"

It would be undignified to suggest that I hastily changed the subject, but...

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "The last I heard, you were working the inns and taverns of the Shenda valley."

Anna shrugged, "The people up and down the Shenda river are a little too conservative for my taste."

"What did you do?" I asked resignedly.

"Nothing! Almost nothing! Another bard and I got in this contest to see who could deflower more of the local farm boys and..."

"Rahne, go upstairs," I said quickly.

"I really wanna hear this story," Rahne replied with wide eyes.

"Upstairs. Now." I gritted.

Rahne threw up her hands and stormed out of the room.

"Try not to corrupt her too much," I said to Anna.

Anna smiled and slid her glass - my glass actually - towards me. I refilled it from my bottle. Meanwhile, under the table, Anna's tail was coiled suggestively around my ankle. I wiggled it loose. That was how it always started, but then the tip of her tail would begin to work its way upwards...

Over Anna's shoulder, I could see Emma coming down the stairs. Rahne was peeking around the corner, making a series of gestures to me that seemed to be saying, "I didn't tell her anything!"

Emma was wearing nothing but her red and white kimono. Her eyes met Anna's. The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees.

The innkeeper remembered that he had something else to do and left the room. I envied him his cowardice.

"My what a cute little servant-girl," Anna said with a wicked grin as she rested her chin on my shoulder. "Can I borrow her for my bath? I could use a good foot massage."

"I see you've found a new friend," Emma said to me in a very even tone of voice. "How much will she cost? Surely no more than a few coppers?"

"Introduce us, dear," Anna replied softly. Then she ran her long, long, tongue along the edge of my ear. I think I shivered from the memories that brought back.

"Emma," I said. "I'd like you to meet my wife."


	12. Wolverine's World: The Ogre

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE OGRE

"How's the fishing?" Rahne said as she sat down next to me.

It was a beautiful morning. The weather was clear and crisp and I had a fishing pole that I'd cobbled together from a slender length of wood, a short line of butcher's string, a cork bobber, and a bent-wire hook.

I was on one of the docks located below the Point. I'd spent the night there alone. It surprised me how much I'd missed having Emma next to me. Especially since I knew she was simply acting as an agent of the Greymalkin.

Well, they say there is no fool like an old fool.

"I've caught nothing and have been alone in complete silence for the entire morning," I replied. "It's been wonderful."

Rahne considered what I'd said.

"Does that mean you want me to go away?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, of course not. Have Anna and Emma killed each other?"

"No." Rahne said as she leaned against me. I put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

"Did they perhaps burn down the inn? Are any innocent people hurt?"

"No."

"Have they come to some kind of bizarre and unlikely agreement and are now friends?"

"'Fraid not. They're pretending to ignore one another, but you can sort of see the aura of hatred that surrounds them both."

"That sounds about right," I replied thoughtfully.

Rahne fell silent for a moment as we both watched the bobber. It stubbornly refused to do anything.

"Is this really the best way to deal with the situation?" Rahne ventured carefully.

"When you're dealing with women as strong-willed as Anna and Emma, there's little else to do."

Rahne nodded doubtfully. "Uhm... I was wondering..."

Then she paused.

"You want to know how Anna and I became married?" I finished for her.

Rahne nodded carefully, her head still against my shoulder.

"She and I have known one another for some time," I began slowly. "Our paths crossed several times as we both wandered and we eventually became friends. But one day Anna saw an injustice that troubled her greatly. Anna's never been one to hide her feelings, so she wrote and performed some very unflattering songs about a powerful lord. Now Anna can normally escape the wrath of just about anyone, but this time she was careless. Some mercenary-mages captured her and delivered her to the lord of Washton. He was the person Anna had wrote those songs about. He had some terrible things in mind for her."

Rahne stirred and looked up at me. "I've heard of him. He's supposed to be really bad."

I sighed. "Everything they say about him is true. I keep waiting for the Old One to send the Blood who will end his misrule."

Then I glanced up at the sky. "And maybe he should get on with it!" I suggested emphatically.

"What's all that got to do with you and Anna being married?"

"As I said, Anna was being held prisoner by Lord Washton. I heard about it and stole into his dungeon - Lord Washton has a rather large one - and then Anna and I performed the bonding ceremony. The next day, I told the lord that he had my wife in jail and demanded her release on the grounds that she was Blood by marriage and had rights that a wandering Elf minstrel lacked. The political situation at the time was tense and Lord Washton needed all of the support he could get. Many of the holders and samurai in his court knew the justice of my words and in any case they were hesitant to offend a seeker. So lord Washton released Anna with the provision that she and I were to leave his holding and not return."

Rahne smiled. "You risked your life for her! That's so romantic! What happened next?"

"As soon as we were safe, Anna scampered off. I haven't seen her until today."

"Why'd she do that?" Rahne gasped.

I shrugged, but didn't respond.

The bobber dipped below the surface. I yanked in order to set the hook, but it didn't work. The hook - without a worm - flew into the air and caught itself on one of the pier supports.

With a sigh, I got to my feet, freed the hook, and gathered up my line. It was time to go face the women of my life.

By the time I was done, Rahne was staring curiously out at the river.

I followed her gaze. There was a small boat floating down the river, near the shore. Nobody appeared to be in it.

The design of the boat seemed odd - it was wider than normal. Also, there were nicks and cuts in the wooden hull and several arrows were protruding from it.

A pair of Folk longshoremen had also seen the boat. As it approached the docks, one of them used a grappling hook to snag the boat and began dragging it in. It would make a nice salvage for them.

Snuggled up against the dock, the boat was larger than it had appeared when it was out on the water. It was half-again the normal size of a rowboat, as well as being oddly broad.

Both longshoremen started in surprise. "What the hell?" one of the longshoremen exclaimed. They were staring into the boat. Several other longshoremen and other dock-workers were curiously approaching.

I handed my make-shift fishing-pole to Rahne and ran over to the other dock.

It was a sign.

* * *

There was a body in the boat, but it wasn't human.

The creature was roughly man-like, but was eight-foot tall, heavily muscled, and covered with a sparse layer of dark fur over warty yellowish-gray skin. It was wearing a rusty assemblage of armor fragments that were badly battered and rent. If I had to make a guess, it had been killed by multiple blows from some kind of heavy axe or polearm. Blood - a darker shade of red than normal blood - was pooled in the bottom of the boat. The creature had bled out there.

"What is it?" somebody asked.

Rahne, still holding my fishing pole, caught up to me. She looked in the boat and blinked in obvious surprise.

I looked upriver - the direction from which the boat had come. There were nothing else on the water. No sign of anything unusual.

Then I looked at Rahne. "Go tell Emma that we've found an ogre."

One of the longshoremen backed away, murmuring a prayer to Thor as he began fingering a Mjolnir charm that was hanging from his neck.

Rahne nodded and took off at run.

* * *

In less than an hour, a half-dozen Temple guards were blocking access to the dock, keeping at bay a sizable crowd of the curious. I could see Anna and Rahne among the crowd.

A Temple priestess was examining the boat. She was accompanied by a Folk temple servant - Emma of course. An older samurai was also present. He was representing the Captain.

"You are right. It is an ogre," the priestess told me once she was done looking at the dead creature. Her name was Olivia and she belonged to the order of the Storm Hammers. She was wearing scale-mail and carrying a six-foot tall polearm tipped with a head that had a hammer on one side and a spiked hook on the other. It was a vicious weapon that could deal devastating blows. Olivia was hefting it with comfortable ease.

Olivia was a tall and broad woman, with blue eyes and pale skin. Nobody would ever call her beautiful, but everyone who ever met her would remember her strong and scarred face. In emulation of her particular avatar of Lady Ororo, Olivia had shaved her hair into a mohawk and bleached it white.

Emma, her eyes down and standing precisely one step to Olivia's left and rear, was carrying Olivia's war helmet. Emma had a shawl over her head that made it difficult to get a good look at her face.

Olivia glanced at the samurai. One of her eyebrows was raised interrogatively.

"Our patrols - both on land and in the river - haven't mentioned anything unusual," the samurai responded.

Then the samurai yanked an arrow from the boat and examined it carefully. After a moment's thought, he glanced back into the crowd.

"Kit!," he called.

A Folk archer, wearing the purple bracer and sash of the Hawkeyes, detached himself from the crowd and came forward. The samurai handed him the arrow.

Blood warriors tend to favor hand-to-hand combat. Any Folk who find himself in melee combat with a Blood will almost always have the worse of the encounter. As a consequence, many Folk have taken to the bow. And if you put enough arrows into a Blood, you will eventually incapacitate him. After that, decapitation is just a matter of a quick swing with a sufficiently sharp and heavy axe. Folk archers are key auxiliary troops for every important lord.

Kit stared for a long moment at the form in the boat. Then he took the arrow from the samurai and examined it carefully. He even sniffed it and touched his tongue against the fletching.

"It's from a long-style bow," he finally reported, "but proportions are strange - it's too short and too thick for a conventional longbow shaft. It's just not a pattern I've ever seen before. The head is built to punch through armor, and it's a fine steel that's a lot better than the usual iron. The fletching is from no bird I've ever seen. The wood looks like ash, but the scent seems off. It's not local."

Olivia shook her head and let out a long sigh.

"This could be a freak event," I suggested, "but it's also possible that a portal has been opened. And that it remains open."

Olivia grunted in agreement. She was obviously a woman of few words.

The samurai and the archer were looking at us, obviously puzzled.

"What do you mean?" the samurai asked brusquely.

I nodded at the dead ogre. "That thing is from Asgard."


	13. Wolverine's World: The Spot on a Map

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE SPOT ON A MAP

The crowd at the foot of the dock parted to let me pass. Anna and Rahne appeared and began walking back to the inn with me. Anna was uncharacteristically silent - her deep yellow eyes watching me carefully. Rahne, on the other claw, immediately began asking questions.

"Is that thing in the boat really from Asgard?" she asked.

"More or less. There are many realms associated with Asgard."

"How did it get here?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

"Why was Emma with that scary-looking Storm priestess?"

Anna finally spoke up. "Emma's an agent of the Temple," she told Rahne. Anna can be quite perceptive.

Rahne took a moment to absorb that before going on. "Just what the heck is she? Emma, I mean... she's not Folk. I think she's some kind of Wilder."

Anna just shrugged.

I glanced at Rahne. "Stop asking about Emma. Her secrets are her own."

"What do we do now?" Rahne continued without so much as a pause.

"Good question," I said softly - mostly to myself.

* * *

By the time we got back to the inn, the town's alarm gongs were sounding a signal that consisted of two rings, a pause, and then two more rings. Then the pattern repeated. That meant the Captain's samurai and the other warriors in his service should report. Also, his holders and lesser lords were to prepare themselves and their forces for a possible summons. The Point was readying itself for war. That struck me as a wise precaution.

The innkeeper loaned me a map of the region. Several customers watching curiously as I spread it out on one of the larger tables. Then I began carefully tracing the path of the Huds upriver from the Point. I was comparing the map to my memories of our recent voyage from Cats Kill. Hopefully, I would be able to find some kind of clue.

Anna crouched on the bannister that separated the entrance to the inn and the common room. Then she began picking out tunes on her guitar.

As always, the customers reacted well to Anna's music. They picked up their drinks and moved closer to where Anna was playing.

Then I found something on the map.

I looked up at Rahne, who was nervously hovering around me. "Go to the boat," I told her, "ask the captain if he would see me. Tell him it's a matter of great importance."

Rahne nodded and dashed out the door.

Anna smiled at me from her perch. "She's a good girl," she said.

"Cute, too," a Blood ranger dressed in buckskin chuckled from the next table. "Is she for rent?"

The flare of rage that went through me was startling. I thought I was long past that sort of thing.

My anger was obvious. Anna's face went tense and she lost a chord on the tune she was playing. From his place behind the bar, the innkeeper flinched. The other customers - a pair of Folk - went pale and froze. You could tell they were considering possible escape routes.

The ranger carefully put down his drink. He didn't look away from me, but he kept his gaze general, not meeting my eyes. His hands were flat on the table. For Blood, that was unthreatening, but by no means unprepared.

The worst of the Old One was with us. I could feel him all around us. He was watching and waiting, with cold eyes and a savage grin, eager to see the blood of his sons.

"There's no resemblance between you and her," the ranger said softly. "So I made an assumption that was incorrect. I meant no harm or challenge. I offer no apology."

I took a deep breath and let it out. Then I spoke. "You meant no harm or challenge. So no apology is required."

The ranger nodded and picked up his drink again.

Anna did something intricate with her guitar as everyone else in the room let out a sigh of relief.

I went back to my map.

* * *

Anna slapped me so hard my head rocked to the side.

"Dammit, Jimmy!" she snarled at me. Then she slapped me again.

I took Anna's hands in mine. She always could pack a punch.

We were up in the room. I thought it best to leave the common-room. Anna finished her set and then followed me upstairs. Rahne and the captain hadn't shown up yet. That wasn't completely surprising - the captain obviously had responsibilities to take care of before he could leave his boat and crew.

"What were you thinking!" Anna raged. "That horny bastard is half your age! He would have killed you! If you hadn't let the Old One loose, I could have settled him down with a flash of my cleavage and a dirty joke about his taste for youngsters!"

"You're right," I said with nod, but that wasn't completely true. That ranger was actually a lot less than half my age, and he wasn't the man who would someday kill me. On the other hand, I'd once seen Anna stop a riot by dancing naked on a rooftop. She's very good at distracting people. She's also a shameless exhibitionist.

"Perhaps some old memories got the best of me," I explained as best I could.

The anger seemed to drain out of Anna and she leaned into me. Her body was against mine and the top of her head was underneath my chin. Anna is such an out-sized bundle of charisma and energy that everyone misses the fact that she's just plain tiny. Rahne's actually a little taller than her.

"I see you're still finding kids to adopt," she said in a calmer tone.

"Yes."

"Seen Rose lately?"

"Just a few days ago, up in Cats Kill. She's still trying to save the world and change it simultaneously."

Anna chuckled. "It's a good thing I wasn't a few years younger when we met. Things might have gone very, very differently between us."

Then Anna got up on her toes and our lips met. Kissing an Elf has its oddities. They have sharp canine teeth and there's a smokey taste that some don't like, but I find quite pleasant. It's like a good peaty whiskey.

Suddenly, Anna's hands were inside my shirt, her fingers gently tracing the lines of my chest. I had a hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head, and the other had a firm grip of the base of her tail. I had her firmly pinned against me. Anna likes that.

And then Emma walked in the door.

* * *

Emma slapped me so hard my head rocked to the side.

"Dammit, James!" she snarled at me. Then she reached back to slap me again.

As my wife, Anna gets to slap me twice. As a woman who is not-my-wife, Emma only gets to hit me once.

I took Emma's hands in mine.

Anna was back downstairs. The moment when she stalked past Emma to leave the room was like watching two mountain-lions who've just realized they have a territorial dispute. I'd actually expected to see bloodshed.

Emma closed her eyes and went still. A long few seconds passed before she opened them.

"I'm sorry," she said very evenly.

I let go of her wrists. Emma hesitated - and then took the opportunity to button my shirt.

"Olivia and the other priestesses are meeting," Emma told me once she was done. Her tone was almost formal - as if she were delivering a report. "Most of them are dithering. Olivia wants to send out scouts and search for any sign of a portal between Midgard and the other realms. If anything is found, she thinks we should put together an army as quickly as possible and destroy the intrusion."

I nodded. "Not a bad plan. Remember when the dark-elves invaded Delphi? The local lords gave them too much time to establish his position and bring in reinforcements. It took everything we had to throw them back."

Emma smiled at me briefly. "You have this strange habit of talking about events from long ago as if they happened yesterday."

I just nodded agreeably. Then something in the window caught my eye. The moon was just a sliver, but it was rising. It split the reflection of my face into two halves.

"Olivia's right," I said mildly, my eyes on my bisected reflection. "It would be best if we settled this as quickly as possible."

* * *

Rahne brought the captain up to my room. Then she and Emma wordlessly left.

"Do you know what's going on?" the captain asked me plainatively. "The entire town is in an uproar. The Captain's samurai are marshalling and the holders and petty lords are seeing to their defenses."

"There may be an other-worldly intrusion," I answered.

That brought the captain up short. Then he let out a long whistle.

"What do you need me for?" he asked. "Let's make this quick - I have a sudden urge to get back on the river and be on my way."

I pointed to the map - it was laying open on the bed. "I need you to take a look at something."

The captain walked over to the bed and frowned down at the map. "This is a standard chart for the Huds," he said.

I pointed to a spot on the map that was just north of the Point. "This part isn't as I remember."

The captain examined the area I was pointing at. Then he nodded. "I know what you're talking about - there's a stream feeding into the Huds there, but it's not on the chart. And it's new. It wasn't there when we came upriver the week before last, but it was present two days ago when we were on our way downriver. I thought that perhaps an old channel or trapped ox-bow lake had re-opened. That happens sometimes. I made a note in my log to let the navigator's guild know about it."

"You know the river far better than most." I said. "Did anything seem unusual about it? Anything at all?"

The captain paused to consider my question. Then, after a few seconds, he answered. "Yes. There was a haze - like a light mist - coming off that new tributary. That made it difficult to get a clear view up the water-course. That struck me as odd because the weather conditions weren't right for it."

That was enough for me. I circled that part of the map with a small length of graphite.

We had something to work with.

* * *

There was a fair-sized crowd in the common room, listening to Anna play. Rahne was among them. I examined the crowd. Nobody was paying any particular attention to her.

Emma was out on the porch. She was sitting on a bench, watching the street traffic. The people passing by the inn were moving more urgently than usual.

I sat next to Emma.

"I intend to scout upriver," I told her. "There's a place that's worth investigating."

Emma nodded. "Do we leave immediately? Or tomorrow morning?"

"It could be dangerous," I warned.

Emma smiled, glanced at me, and shook her head. "Dangerous? Really? That's a pity, because my travels with you have been so quiet up till now."

"I'd rather you and Rahne stayed here in town."

"That's not going to happen," Emma said with a shrug. "Rahne has come to care for you - not as a woman, but as a girl. You are becoming like a father to her. And as for me... well, I have my mission to consider."

I examined Emma's face. "Your mission isn't to keep an eye on Rahne, is it?"

"No."

"Why was it decided that I'm worthy of the Temple's attention?"

Emma shrugged again. "You aren't the only person who watches for signs, James. Dare saw something in you. She prayed for guidance, consulted with the other priestesses, and then talked with me. She decided that you should be watched. She felt it was the will of Lady Ororo."

Then Emma paused before continuing. "You have some remarkable women in your life," she added dryly.

I couldn't help myself. I let out a snort.

A smile flickered across Emma's face.


	14. Wolverine's World: The Nightmare

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE NIGHTMARE

We had to get upriver as soon as possible. If the Captain's scouting forces ran into the enemy first, that might trigger a series of pitched battles and meeting engagements for which his forces would not be prepared. The warriors of the Point would be defeated piece-meal. I'd seen it happen before.

If what I suspected was true, an overwhelming force had to be assembled as quickly as possible and then sent out to hit the enemy hard.

As a seeker, I have a certain rights and prerogatives. If we could find the enemy, then I could call for war in the Old One's name. If the Temple agreed, there would be little or no indecision, hesitation, or the usual seeking of petty advantage by lords and holders. The Blood all up and down the Huds would unite to deal with the common foe.

I hoped that would be enough. The last time, it almost wasn't.

But before I called the Blood to war, I had to be sure.

* * *

I was well after midnight when we met down at the docks. Rahne had brought David to meet with Emma and I.

"Give me the money," I told Emma.

Emma didn't look pleased, but she retrieved our small bag of silver from her satchel. I tossed it to David and he caught it one-handed.

"Find us a good boat - a large canoe will work. And we need it quickly."

David knew boats and the docks in a way we didn't. I was trusting to his expertise. He nodded, clearly impressed by the urgency in my voice. Then he and Rahne left.

I sat down, my back against some crates. Emma knelt next to me.

Some guards passed by. They paused for a moment to examine us, but then they recognized me. I nodded at them. They bowed and continued on their rounds.

Emma watched the wordless exchange and shook her head once the guards moved on.

"What's to stop you from abusing your authority?" she asked me.

I've been asked that before - always by Wilder or Folk. They really don't quite understand what I am.

"If I did that, then I would no longer be a seeker," I explained. "Then I would have no authority to abuse. And someone would kill me for that."

Really, it's all rather obvious to the Blood. For some reason, others seem to feel there are some missing steps of logic.

Emma's green eyes met mine. Then she just smiled.

It was cooler than normal. Emma unwrapped her travelling blanket, sat next to me, and wrapped it around us.

"Got room for one more in there?" Anna called as she approached. She had her gear with her. Apparently her stay in the Point was over.

Emma sighed as I held the blanket open.

Anna put down her bag and guitar case and crawled in next to me.

* * *

I was between Anna and Emma, the blanket over all three of us. Anna was curled into a ball, with her head resting on my chest. Emma had an arm around my chest and her legs intertwined with mine. My arms were around their shoulders. Under other circumstances, the experience would have been enjoyable.

Nothing was said. I had much to consider, Emma was disinclined to speak in Anna's presence, and Anna caught our mood and stayed uncharacteristically silent.

Anna dozed off first. Then Emma. I watched the river for a while, then my eyes closed.

An old nightmare appeared from out of the darkness of sleep. I had no choice but to mount up and let her take me for a ride.

* * *

_We were at war with creatures from another world._

_A host had been raised that was vaster than anything seen for centuries. Thousands of Blood samurai and ronin gathered in their packs and bands. The Wilder raised their crossed banner in the name of the Crippled Lord. The Iron Men flew overhead while the Spider Legion marched alongside us. The Folk put away their plows and took up their polearms and bows. Ancient Strange teleported in every Scatter warrior he could find. The College sent their mages. Illyana the Mad summoned her demons. Even the saner Green Bastards pitched in._

_We passed by the battlefields at Prince and Trent, where the local lords of the Blood had been annihilated. Then we marched down the north side of the Dela river, towards the captured town of Delphi. We encountered the enemy late in the afternoon, just west of an inconsequential creek the locals called the Penpack. There was no hesitation by either side, the battle erupted immediately._

_The fighting raged on and on, through the last of the day and into the night. The bodies of our warriors were everywhere, a carpet of the dead. In the morning light, it was obvious that we were losing. We wouldn't break, but we could certainly die. Something had to be done._

_The eldest of the storm priestesses - a gentle and gracious lady whose life had been devoted to learning and peace - knelt in a pool of our warriors' blood. She open her robes, smeared blood-soaked mud onto her face, lifted her arms up to a brooding sky, and screamed a half-forgotten, half-forbidden plea for help._

_When she was done it seemed as if the entire world paused - waiting to see what would happen next._

_Minutes passed. I began to wonder if the old pact had been forgotten._

_Then the lightning came. It was like nothing I'd seen before or since, falling like explosive rain into the formations of dark-elf troops. Bodies and parts of bodies flew through the sky. There was a haze of purple-red blood that intermingled with a driving rain and made it smell and taste like copper. Thunder washed over our line again and again, rocking us back where we stood._

_I looked up. Somehow, through the driving rain and the rippling storm clouds, I saw him. His red cape, accentuating a distant figure, flared and whipped high in the storm-tossed sky. His hammer blazed with blue and white light._

_So few saw him. Those who knew who he was did not speak of it._

_Our demons raged through the enemy rear. Elvish teleporters and spider infiltrators assassinated enemy officers and mages. Eldritch energies whipped around the battlefield like the titanic, frenzied, tentacles of great beasts. The Scatter, their faces and bodies now smeared with the red sign of the olden Avengers, sang their death songs as they advanced. Flyers dueled above us, the bodies of the slain crashing to earth around us. We Blood howled in our endless, berserk, fury - screaming the Old One's name as we abandoned our humanity and made that final, pitiless, charge._

_The tattered line of dark-elves and their monsters bent back and back... and then finally broke._

_Everything became chaos and mayhem._

_I remembered a torn-open suit of priceless Iron Men armor. Dark, winged, creatures crouched over it, feeding on the screaming woman inside..._

_I remembered a spider soldier, one arm torn away, pounding at the body of dead troll with his remaining arm as he reduced it to a gruesome paste. I tried to pull him away, hoping I could get him to a healer in time. But he just shook me off, fell back on what was left of the troll, and died..._

_I remembered a giant stalking through the rain, lashing wildly in every direction with a club that was an entire tree. Tiny figures scaled his bleeding body, cutting and carving into the giant as they climbed up to his head and throat..._

_I remembered injured Folk militia-men, too hurt to fight, using their halberds as staffs as they staggered from body to body. They killed the enemy wounded and decapitated all of the dead they could find - even ours. So many had risen to fight again..._

_I remembered my sons..._

_Afterwards, what was left of our army entered the town of Delphi. Its people were dead, ripped open, drained of blood, and stacked in neat rows. They were sacrifices for a massive spell that we barely stopped in time. It didn't matter if the victims were Blood, Folk, Scatter, or Wilder - their lives had been nothing more than fuel for evil magics._

* * *

I woke with a start. Anna had my face in her hands and her lips were pressed against mine. Emma was holding me tight, her forehead against the side of my face.

"Wake up," Anna was whispering to me, over and over again.

* * *

David and Rahne came back. They had a fine-looking canoe.

"Are you all right?" Emma asked as she peered at me. She was obviously worried.

"I'm fine," I answered shortly.

Rahne tossed our packs into a canoe. Anna and David were holding the boat steady. Then she leaned over to kiss David goodbye and agilely stepped into the canoe. Part of me wanted to leave Rahne behind. Another part of me recognized that she was actually quite capable. I might need her. Just as I might need Anna and Emma.

The stakes were too high for sentiment.

Emma stepped close to me. "What's wrong?"

I looked up at the night sky. The edge of the moon was peering down at us from between dark, wind-torn, clouds.

"You saw my dream?" I asked.

Emma nodded hesitantly. She had been acting oddly around me ever since the nightmare. Her understanding of how old I was had just undergone a major revision. The truth amazed her.

Or perhaps she thought I was mad, and that what she had seen in my mind was no more than delusion.

"We captured the enemy leader," I told her as I continued examining the sky. "We crucified him to an ancient oak tree with nails of cold iron. Then our mages cast their finest spells of binding upon him."

"And somehow the bastard was gone the next day."

"You think he's back?" Emma asked tensely.

I nodded.

He was back. Deep down inside, I knew it.

Malekith was back.


	15. Wolverine's World: The Camp

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE CAMP

The amount of distance that can be covered in a canoe, even when going upriver, surprises many people. If you're going against the current, the trick is to keep away from the main channel and work your way through the side channels where the current is weaker. If a water course peters off, you simply carry the canoe overland to another channel and continue onward.

Perhaps twelve hours after we began working our way upriver, we were a considerable distance north of the Point. And then we found some bodies.

There were four of them on a small islet - a decapitated Blood ronin and three hacked-to-death Folk merchants. A fifth body - that of another ronin - was several hundred yards away, caught behind a beaver dam. Like the other Blood, his head was gone.

I examined the scene, sorting through scents and scrutinizing tracks. The murdered party was attacked after they settled in for the night. There had been about a dozen attackers. They'd approached from two directions, wading through the water until they got to the island. They wore boots and carried bows and swords. Several broken arrows resembled the type that had been retrieved from the ogre's boat. The two yojimbos fought hard, but they were badly outnumbered. The one who almost got away only fled after his companion and all three of their charges were dead. However, the two ronin took a toll on their attackers. Several dead and wounded had been carried away by the attackers.

Anna pointed out some burn-like marks on one of the dead ronin. Unlike normal burns, the flesh around his injuries were oddly pale - as if the blood had been drained away.

"Magic," Anna said. I nodded in agreement.

"What's this?" Rahne asked, as she crouched and sniffed at a splash of dried purple-red blood. Her noise wrinkled at the acrid smell.

"The enemy," I answered. Despite all of the years that had passed, I recognized the scent of the attackers. My hope that we'd stumbled upon nothing more than an isolated intrusion into our world was rapidly vanishing.

Emma frowned thoughtfully as she mentally scanned the area.

*There's nobody within a mile of us,* she reported to me mind-to-mind.

*We need to be careful,* I thought back to her. *If they find us first, they'll kill us.*

Her eyes coldly serious, Emma nodded in agreement.

* * *

Really, it wasn't wise to delay any longer. We should have continued on. However, Emma and I had responsibilities that reached beyond this material world. So we buried the dead as respectfully as possible in hastily scooped out shallow graves. Then we marked the graves with river cobbles so they could be found later.

Most Elves follow the old faith of the Folk, so Anna had an understanding of what to do for them. Over the graves of the three Folk, she spoke their words of farewell. What she said was about reuniting with loved ones in a place of peace and contentment, and then someday experiencing resurrection. Those concepts are not a part of my beliefs, but they have a tremendous resonance. Whenever I hear them, I find myself haunted by the memories of those I have lost.

When Anna was done, she and Emma looked at each other, and then at me. I understood - the graves of the two Blood had not been properly consecrated.

"If it is the will of the Old One and Lady Grey, we will return," I told them. I was trying to be prudent.

Emma shook her head. "We have time," she said quietly, but firmly.

Anna nodded in agreement. I'm honestly not sure about Anna's religious beliefs, but on some matters she has a strong sense of propriety. She'd helped me serve the graves of Blood males before.

I took a moment to be astonished by the experience of Anna and Emma seeing eye-to-eye on something.

A space had been intentionally left between the graves of the two ronin. It had already been cleared of vegetation and loose rocks. Anna and Emma spread out a blanket and smoothed it flat. And then they began undressing.

"Keep watch for us," I told Rahne. "And don't go too far."

She nodded and faded back into the trees.

* * *

Despite my concerns, I felt better once we were done. Leaving the dead unhallowed must sometimes be done, especially during time of war, but it always nags at me.

As Emma offered the traditional prayer to help guide the two dead Ronin to the spirit world, Anna helped me dress. As always, she was in no particular hurry to put on her own clothes. Anna had the slender and graceful body of her kind. She liked to show it off.

Or perhaps she was taking her time dressing because Emma was still naked. The prayer Emma was saying is traditionally done immediately after the ritual of graveside sex. Most women don't bother to dress before making it. It's assumed by many that the prayer should be delivered while unclothed, although the Traditions are actually unspecific about that. Perhaps Anna simply didn't want to be upstaged.

Anna nodded towards Emma. "She's a priestess, right? For the Lady of Fire if I had to guess."

*I hate to admit it, but she's actually quite intelligent,* Emma sent telepathically. She had just finished her prayer and was gathering her clothes.

"That's not really important right now," I replied to Anna as I secured my traditional tooth and claw necklace around my neck.

Anna handed me my staff. I took it... but she didn't let go. Instead, she suggestively ran her hand up and down it's upper length.

*She never really stops, does she?* Emma observed.

I yanked my staff away from Anna.

"There's something I need to say to you," Anna said quietly.

"What?" I asked.

"That I'm sorry," she replied. Her eyes were now staring directly into mine. Given the almost solid yellow nature of an Elf's eyes, some people find that disconcerting. I'm not one of them.

I paused. This really wasn't the time or place, but...

*You might as well get this out of the way,* Emma suggested dryly. *After all, it's not like we're in any danger, or on an important mission, or anything like that.*

"There's nothing to be sorry about," I told Anna. "We're both wanderers, but we have different callings. I wasn't angry when you left. I knew it would happen."

Anna nodded slowly. "You deserved an explanation. I didn't give you one."

*The explanation's fairly simple,* Emma contributed. *She's a selfish trollop who's unable to commit herself to anything but the open road, a bottle of whiskey, and a tumble with anything willing.*

"It's fine, Anna," I answered, some exasperation creeping into my voice.

Anna sighed. "Would you at least have the decency to be angry with me?"

*I agree with her there,* Emma observed approvingly.

"Why?" I asked.

Anna gave me a hard look. "Because you risked your life to save my blue ass, and then I ran off without a word? For God's sake, James, I owed you more than that."

*Good point,* Emma supplied helpfully.

I put a hand on Anna's bare shoulder. "If it will help, the next time we're alone, I promise to be angry and bitter."

*No, you won't,* Emma chortled in my mind.

"No, you won't," Anna sighed.

Anna gave me a disconsolate look. "There's one more thing..."

*Uh-oh,* Emma thought warily.

It was my turn to sigh. "What?"

"Am I your wife?" Anna asked.

That brought me up short. Anna was staring at me as she waited for my answer. Emma suddenly had nothing to contribute.

"You are my wife according to both law and tradition," I replied slowly.

"Fuck law and tradition," Anna snarled. "Am I really your wife?"

"For pity's sake, Anna..." I began.

Then Rahne ran out of the trees. She moved as silently as a ghost and was pointing urgently behind her.

* * *

Emma dove into some high brush. Rahne dodged back into the trees. Anna and I took cover in a tangled pile of driftwood. Fortunately, we'd already hidden the canoe in some tall cattails.

Then we waited.

After a tense minute or so, a boat rowed past, coming from upriver. Inside were a half-dozen dark-elf warriors. Four had oars, while the remaining two wielded heavy-looking bows as they scanned the adjacent banks. The boat was an ordinary fishing skiff, common to the local rivers and lakes. The previous owner was almost certainly dead.

The dark-elves had slender frames and blue-purplish skin. Their helmets partially concealed their faces and hair, but their facial features were elongated and narrow. The scale armor they all wore had the look of a uniform. They were armed with bows and long-swords.

At the sight of the dark-elves, I felt my lips draw back in a reflexive snarl as a growl rumbled through my chest. Anna grabbed me and hugged me tight. That calmed me.

Fortunately, dark-elves are nose-blind - like so many of the non-Blood. The wind actually didn't favor us, but they were unable to catch our scent.

*Emma?* I called, hoping she would be able to detect my thoughts.

*It's a scouting party,* Emma sent back to me. *There's nobody else with them.*

*Can you get any other information?*

*They're difficult to read, but they're acting under orders and are part of a larger force.*

*Can you tell how large of a force? Or its location?*

*No.*

*Anything else?*

Emma paused before replying. *They're not just scouting. They're looking for something. Something important.*

That didn't mean anything to me.

*One more thing,* Emma added.

*What?*

*They're frightened,* Emma sent. *The dark-elves are terrified of whatever it is they're searching for.*

* * *

We continued upriver. I wanted to get a better sense of the enemy. When - if - Emma and I finally called for war, I wanted to have a better idea of what we were facing. The trick was to not get killed in the process.

Anna and I rowed. Rahne and Emma kept watch. We moved in short bursts, with Emma, Rahne, and I confirming that there were no observers before we moved from point to point. Using her telepathic abilities so intensively was putting an obvious strain on Emma, but we didn't have much choice.

Within an hour, we came upon a dark-elf camp.

They had prisoners. We recognized them.

* * *

"You know them?" Anna asked softly.

We were ashore in a jumble of woods, brush, and driftwood that gave us cover and a good view of the dark-elf camp. The camp held about a hundred dark-elf warriors and wasn't fortified - it was obviously intended to be temporary. Roughly a dozen captured local boats were grounded on the river bank adjacent to the camp.

"That man is named Benjamin," I whispered back. "He's a wallcrawler. The woman is Faye. We met them just south of Cats Kill. Faye's the sister of a mad Green Bastard that we killed."

Anna gave me a startled look. "That must have been an interesting conversation when you met."

Emma sniffed. "I thought we'd have to kill them. But Faye already knew that her brother was beyond any real help. Rahne simply settled the issue when she killed him."

Anna stared at Rahne. "You killed a Green Bastard?"

Rahne looked straight ahead and didn't respond. Rick's death had been necessary, but it still weighed on her.

Benjamin and Faye were in a crudely fenced and guarded enclosure. Benjamin was sitting cross-legged in an ornate cage that was barely larger than he was. He was silently and resentfully staring out at this captors. The bars of the cage looked frail, but they had to be incredibly strong. Wallcrawlers are a physically powerful breed.

Faye was fully transformed into her Green form. She was naked and on her knees, heavy manacles and ankle chains restraining her. A chain ran from a collar around her neck and was attached to a metal post that was driven deep into the ground beside her. The metal of her bounds looked like some kind of dark iron, but it had to be much more than that.

Both Benjamin and Faye were beaten and bruised. They hadn't been captured without a fight.

As we watched, Faye seemed to gather her will and began straining against her restraints. A light blue glow built up around her. The color deepened as Faye continued to struggle. It was only when she ceased that the glow began to slowly dissipate.

"Magical bonds," Emma observed. "If they were ordinary iron or steel, Faye would be free by now."

I nodded in agreement.

"What can you sense?" I asked Emma.

"This isn't all of the dark-elves," Emma replied instantly. "There are more - many more - located north of us. This is an advance camp for search parties."

Anna and Rahne exchanged a look.

"Can you make a better guess of their numbers?" I asked.

Emma hesitated before replying. "No, but these dark-elves are all part of a single, distinctive, military formation. They feel tremendous loyalty to it. And they believe that all of the dark-elves currently in our world are members of that same unit."

"They call it a legion," I said. "It's their basic unit of maneuver. Dark-elf warriors spend their entire lives attached to a single legion. The officers of a legion are a form of nobility whose titles are based on their role in the legion.

Each legion has its own battle mages as well."

"How many in a legion?" Anna asked worriedly.

"About five thousand dark-elves and supporting creatures."

Rahne winced. "That's bad."

"We destroyed five legions at the battle of Delphi," I added bleakly. "But it cost us dearly. About half of the Blood fighters for hundreds of miles around were killed. There was massive political turmoil afterwards because of the large number of lords and holders who died in battle - and more died because of that. Nyack lost so many Folk, Scatter, and Wilder warriors that it seemed empty for decades afterwards."

"Why are they here?" Anna asked Emma. "You said something about search parties?"

Emma glanced back at Anna. "They're looking for something they think is important. I don't know what it is."

"We have to free Benjamin and Faye," Rahne interjected.

I examined the dark-elf camp skeptically. The situation didn't look good for an escape.

"I don't think that's possible," Emma said with a shake of her head.

"Can we sneak in after dark?" Rahne suggested.

"Dark-elves see as well at night as in the day," I told her.

"So we want those two free, but there's never going to be a good time to extract them?" Anna summarized.

"Yes," I answered distractedly. "Perhaps we can..."

BAMF!

Anna was gone in a haze of smoke and brimstone. Emma made a disgusted face and hastily covered her nose and mouth with her scarf. Rahne stumbled back in surprise - she'd never seen an Elf teleport below.

I looked back at the dark-elf camp. Anna was now standing next to Faye. Then she knelt, wrapped her arms around Faye's waist, and teleported her out of her bonds. They appeared next to Benjamin's cage.

"Oh, fuck this!" Emma gasped out. Rahne's eyes were wide-open and she had an expression on her face that would have been comical under any other circumstances.

Only a few of the dark-elves were aware of what was happening - it was occurring so fast. However, voices began yelling and swords were being drawn. A tall and cadaverously thin figure wearing an ornate variation of the dark-elf armored uniform came out of a tent. She looked about in obvious confusion as she began making some kind of complex gesture with one hand.

"Mage," Emma warned. Then she concentrated on the distant figure.

The mage doubled over, collapsed to her hands and knees, and began retching.

Anna still had an arm around Faye as she reached inside the cage holding Benjamin and grabbed him by the hair...

There was an outward rush of air and another wash of sulfurous stench, and then Anna, Benjamin, and Faye were standing among us. Anna staggered and Benjamin clutched at her to keep her from collapsing. Anna was a very powerful teleporter, but she had just performed three jumps within a matter of a few seconds. She was on the verge of collapse.

"You?" Faye gasped in surprise as she stared at us. Then she let go of Anna, formed her hands into fists and fell into a fighting crouch. I held out my hands to forestall a fight.

Meanwhile, the enemy camp was in turmoil. However, it was organized turmoil. Squads of dark-elf warriors were already moving out of the camp or taking up defensive positions on the perimeter. Other squads were forming. Another mage, this time male, appeared out of the same tent as the first mage. He glanced down at his companion and then quickly began casting a spell. Runes of power, glowing sea-green and ice-blue, appeared in the air and began revolving around him.

"Well, shit," Emma said angrily as she stared at the activity in the camp. "They've put up a psionic shield."

"Go!" I yelled, giving Emma and Rahne a non-too-gentle shove as I did. That snapped them out of their inactivity and they began sprinting towards the boat.

Faye looked at me for a long moment. Then she shook her head and dropped her belligerent stance.

"See you on the other side of the river," she said. Then she gathered up Anna and Benjamin and took off in a tremendous leap. Anna let out a choked scream of surprise. Faye tried to keep low to the ground and that restricted how much distance she could cover in a single bound. The three of them ended up on a sandbar that was about two-thirds of the way across the river. They landed in a spray of sand, mud, and water.

I dashed after Emma and Rahne. They jumped into the canoe and grabbed for the oars. I pushed the canoe away from the shore, splashed after it, and scrambled inside.

Behind us, the hue and cry from the enemy camp grew louder and louder.

"I'm going to murder your wife," Emma told me conversationally as she began rowing.


	16. Wolverine's World: The Fight in the Ravine

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE FIGHT IN THE RAVINE

We grounded our canoe onto a narrow mud-flat. After grabbing our gear and jumping out, I kicked the canoe loose. It began drifting downstream. If we'd left the canoe where it was, it would mark precisely where we'd crossed the river.

Benjamin was perched up in a tall hickory that was on the edge of the tree-line. He urgently waved us forward.

Once we got in amongst the trees, Benjamin leaped to the ground with the characteristic grace of his kind.

"I'm not complaining," he said as he helpfully relieved Emma of the large load she was carrying - to my surprise, Emma had Anna's bag and guitar, "but our escape plan does seem... unformed."

I saw no reason to lie. "We're making it up as we go along," I told him.

Benjamin's serious brown eyes met mine. "I thought it was something like that. Now what?"

"Run!" Rahne suggested immediately.

"Kill Anna!" Emma snarled.

"Proceed perpendicularly from the river until we get up onto the river-bluffs, then turn south and use overhead cover and rocky terrain to mask our retreat," I said. "Hopefully pursuit will be minimal and we'll eventually link up with troops from the Point."

Benjamin reached out and absently-mindedly ruffled Rahne's wild mop of red hair. She wrinkled her nose at him, but didn't really seem offended.

"Your plan is sound," Benjamin told her, "but I think James has made a fine expansion on it."

Rahne smiled brightly at Benjamin. I'd noticed that she had particularly good instincts about others.

"Oh... and who's Anna and why are we killing her?" Benjamin asked Emma.

"She's that insane twit of an elf who teleported you out of that camp," Emma growled.

We were moving as we talked. I assumed Benjamin was taking us to the others.

"I really don't think I can go along with that," Benjamin told Emma. "Faye and I were in a lot of trouble. Anna got us out of it."

"She... She didn't... She just..." Emma spluttered indignantly.

I gently put a hand on Emma's shoulder. "Emma, please. We really don't have time for that right now."

Emma took a deep breath. And then she nodded her head.

* * *

Actually, Emma would have been able to dispose of Anna with ease. Anna was so exhausted from her repeated teleportational jumps that Faye had to carry her.

Faye was effortlessly cradling Anna in her green arms - which looked odd since Anna wasn't really that much smaller than Faye. It reminded me of a young girl carrying her toddler sister.

Anna's eyes were closed and she had her arms around Faye's neck. I saw a look of calculation creep into Emma's eyes.

"You promised, " I told her calmly.

That wasn't strictly true, but Emma considered my words. Then she waved a hand and subsided.

I took a moment to examine Anna's face. I was pretty sure she'd recover, but in all the time I'd known her I'd never seen her perform so many jumps so quickly. Anna was a fine teleporter, but...

She opened her yellow eyes and looked at me.

"I hate to see people in cages," Anna told me blearily.

Behind me, I heard Emma sigh.

I nodded and brushed the hair from Anna's eyes. She closed them and went back to resting her head against Faye's shoulder.

"We have to keep moving," I told everyone. I didn't wait for a response, I just began walking away from the river.

Everyone followed. I didn't have much of a plan, but it was all we had.

* * *

On that part of the river, the bluffs are steep and near to the water. We were on them within minutes, climbing up through a dry cut that was filled with brush and saplings. I was in the lead. Faye and Anna were right behind. Emma - her eyes distant as she psychically scanned the region around us - was next. Benjamin kept a protective eye on her. Trailing us all was Rahne, watching our back-trail as she slipped from cover to cover.

In my experience, the dark-elves used flying creatures as trackers and war animals. The tops of the bluffs were heavily treed and I hoped that would provide us with cover from above.

Also, dark-elf mages are quite accomplished. They would be able to follow us with magic. And there was little we could do about that except get to safety.

*A pursuit party has just crossed the river,* Emma mind-spoke to me. *There's about a dozen of them, led by a mage. They have two flying beasts with them.*

That wasn't good. I'd hoped that the enemy would decide that we were not worth chasing.

But that was not the case.

*We have to kill the mage,* I sent to Emma.

*Agreed.*

Emma could be deadly practical.

* * *

We slowed and then topped, mimicking exhaustion. That allowed the dark-elves to catch up.

It had been a long time since I'd ranged along the bluffs on that side of the Huds. So long ago that the patterns of vegetation has shifted - generations of fires and regrowth will do that. Even some of the geography had become different as new watercourses cut their way down-slope, while others dried up.

However, enough was still as I remembered it. I chose our ambush site carefully.

I picked a rocky ravine that was comparatively bare of vegetation, but the trees on our side were thick.

Benjamin and Faye were a hundred yards further down the trail from the rest of us. The dark-elf mage was almost certainly tracking them - they'd been in dark-elf captivity long enough for their mages to have established a sense of their presence. Hopefully, the mage would concentrate on them and miss the fact that the rest of us had separated.

After we sprung the ambush, Benjamin and Faye would double back to us as quickly as possible.

Anna was back on her feet, but still shaky. She was with Emma - and, yes, that worried me. But we didn't have much choice. The two of them were waiting on top of our side of the ravine. Given her condition, I hoped Anna wouldn't have to fight.

Rahne and I were hidden in the rocks on the bottom of ravine, on either side of the dark-elf approach.

Within minutes, our pursuers appeared.

* * *

A pair of flying creatures - they resembled small, blue, misshapen men with wings - passed overhead. They were flying in broad circles, ranging a wide distance to the sides of the approaching dark-elves.

Then a skirmish line of four widely-spaced dark-elf archers appeared on the far lip of the ravine. They paused, not liking the openness of the ravine, and took a moment to examine it and the far side for signs of trouble. Then they broke out of cover and began scrambling and sliding down the side of the cut.

A lot depended on how closely the dark-elf mage was following. It would be wiser if the mage allowed his skirmishers to get to the other side of the ravine before exposing himself. It would be better for us if he were too eager.

The four archer-skirmishers passed Rahne and I and began climbing the even steeper slope of our side of the ravine. The mage and a half-dozen warriors appeared behind them and began climbing down after the skirmishers. The mage was in the center of his group, with warriors all around him. They were going to pass much closer to my hiding-spot than Rahne's - just a few yards away.

That was how I had planned it.

*Now?* Emma asked in my mind.

*Now.*

Emma let out a telepathic call to battle.

I exploded out of my tiny overhang. The loose camouflage of dead branches, leaves, loose rocks and other ravine-bottom debris that I'd piled up in the opening flew from me. A dark-elf warrior was just a few feet from me. His eyes were wide with surprise as he swung his shield into position and draw back his sword to strike.

Slamming into him, I grabbed the edge of his shield and yanked hard. Standing as he was on a slope, he lost balance and toppled. With a quick flash of my claws, I made sure that he was bleeding to death when he hit the rocks.

The path between the mage and I was momentarily clear, but the other dark-elf warriors were throwing themselves between us. For his part, the wide-eyed mage - this kind of fighting was too close for him - was backing away as he tried to summon a spell.

In a tumbling scatter of loose rocks, one of the skirmishers cascaded down to the bottom of the ravine and landed just a few feet away from me. He seemed to be trying to regain control of his limbs, but he was moving in a jerky and uncoordinated way. Emma was picking the skirmishers off of the side slope with her psychic powers. I ignored him and lunged for the nearest warrior.

My target was smart. He didn't try to immediately take me down. Instead he used his sword to keep me at bay and mindful of tne threat he presented. He was waiting for his fellows to close with me.

I kicked him square in the middle of his shield. That made him stagger backwards and I ducked off to the side.

There was a horrified shriek from overhead. Over the shoulder of the warrior I was angling towards, I saw one of the skirmishers cart-wheeling through the air. He vanished into the trees on the far side of the ravine in a series of loud crashes. His screaming stopped abruptly.

That certainly looked like Faye's work. She and Benjamin had rejoined Emma and Anna.

I partially dodged a sword-slash - it clipped me on my left bicep - and then began backing down the ravine, trying to open the distance between me and the warriors I was fighting. They pursued eagerly - except for the smart one. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at the mage they were supposed to be guarding.

The mage was lying on a large and flat shelf of stone that was part of the channel in the bottom of the ravine. Blood was pouring out of his open throat and from a narrow pair of wounds that had precisely gone through his back and into his heart. He was beyond helping.

And there was no sign of my lovely, lethal, little Rahne.

The smart warrior spat out something that I assumed was a curse. The rest closed on me. I was in trouble.

A boulder landed between me and the warriors. In a cloud of dust, we all flinched back from the rock shards that flew into us.

Then Anna appeared next to me in a cloud of dark smoke and sulfur-stench. I can't really say she grabbed me. It was more like she fell into me and I grabbed her.

"Hiya, lover," she said with a crooked smile.

"Dammit, Anna..." I began angrily, but then stopped. It was Anna. Nobody could tell her anything. And besides, she could very well be saving my life.

Anna tried to teleport me back to the others, but she was too weak. We did make it part-way up-slope.

The last of the skirmishers - he'd somehow avoided being injured or killed - loosed an arrow at us from across the slope. I pivoted Anna out of the way and blocked the shot with my right arm. I hissed in agony as the arrow penetrated my arm, neatly lodged between the two bones of the forearm.

Rahne appeared out of nowhere and sliced open the archer's legs. He collapsed and began rolling downhill. He was the last of the skirmishers.

Rahne waved at us, pointed behind us, and then continued up-slope.

I looked in the direction Rahne had pointed. Some of the remaining warriors in the ravine bottom were gamely climbing after Anna and I.

However, one of the dark-elves - I recognized him as that damned smart one - grabbed his eager fellows and yanked them back. Then he more or less kicked and shoved them into cover behind a large pair of boulders.

Because of his helmet, I couldn't make out that warrior's face, but I made a mental note of his equipment and body language. I don't like it when my foes have competent people on their side. It would be best if I killed him the next time I saw him.

Anna and I held each other as we climbed the rest of the way up the slope. There was a repetitive, meaty, slapping sound as we climbed. At the top, I saw Benjamin killing one of the flying creatures. He had it by its clawed feet and was smashing it again and again against the trunk of convenient pine tree. The other one was lying nearby, at the foot of another stained tree. Benjamin was covered with droplets of oddly dark blood-spray.

"That went well," he told us cheerfully.


	17. Wolverine's World: The Giant

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE GIANT

The dark-elves who had survived our recent battle were retreating back across the river. And Emma assured me that there were no other pursuers. There's a tremendous advantage to having someone on your side who can mind-scan the region around you.

We took a moment to regroup.

The arrow in my arm had to be dealt with. Emma and Anna seemed particularly disturbed by it. The non-Blood often don't seem to really understand that such wounds are actually minor to my kind.

Benjamin offered to help and I didn't hesitate. First, he broke off the fletching and then the broad-headed point of the arrow. Taking a firm grip of my wrist, he yanked the shaft loose. He was quick and very efficient. The procedure didn't hurt anywhere near as much as the last time.

Anna was still incapacitated and I was worried about her. She needed time to recover from the strain she'd put on herself and so far she wasn't getting it. At the moment, she was curled up with her head in Faye's lap. That would help, but she needed a lot more rest.

Emma pulled the map from my pack and examined it closely.

"The Point has a river outpost just a dozen miles south of here," she reported. "I remember passing it when we came up this way. That would be a good place to take refuge."

I nodded as I continued applying pressure to the perforation through my arm. The wound was closing up, but it would take a minute or so to finish healing. Deep through-and-through injuries like that are irritatingly slow to regenerate.

Benjamin frowned at Emma. "South, you say?"

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Benjamin shook his head. "When I was hunting those flying critters, I chased them through the tree-tops. It was quite a view. There's something on fire to the south of us."

By then, while my arm still ached and was oozing blood, I could finally make some use of it. Benjamin was waiting for me by the time I finished climbing to the top of a nearby tree.

He was right. Off to the south, not too far from the river, a tendril of dark smoke was rising out of the forest.

"Its unlikely to be a lightning fire, it wasn't been dry enough," Benjamin observed.

"But that's not the fort," I said to Benjamin. "That fire is only about five or six miles away."

"Perhaps a farm-hold?" Benjamin suggested.

"Maybe," I replied thoughtfully. "But that would be a rather isolated farm - not at all a safe place for a single holder and his family. However, there are mining, logging, and fur-trading camps all up and down the valley. It could be one of them."

"Should we skirt around?" Benjamin asked. It sounded like he favored the idea.

I paused and examined the landscape around us.

A flight of birds - a breed of sparrow more common to the mountains of the north than to the local river valley - rose out of nearby stand of trees and flew off. The path of their flight was directly towards the smoke.

On the other side of the smoke, I saw a flicker of heat-lightning on the horizon.

"We'll take a look," I replied slowly.

* * *

Actually, it turned out to be an old mining camp. The tall and crumbling tailings pile was unmistakable. However, every building was wrecked and ablaze. Even the headframe - constructed of two foot thick timbers that were now oddly splintered and shattered - had been knocked to pieces and was burning.

To say the least, it didn't look like a natural fire.

The others kept to the trees while Rahne and I scouted the perimeter of the mine. We quickly found a trail leading from the camp and into the bluffs beyond.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Rahne asked me worriedly.

The trail consisted of felled, uprooted, and torn-apart trees. It was as if something immensely powerful had moved through the forest, smashing anything that was in its way out of existence.

"A particularly powerful Green Bastard might be able to do this," I responded.

I crouched to examine a track. It was from a booted foot - and was at least twice the length of my foot.

Rahne and I exchanged a look.

Then the wind shifted and we could hear distant voices.

* * *

The others joined us. Hiding on tree-covered hilltop, we watched the strange scene below us.

The trail of wrecked trees ended in a clearing between two hills. In the middle of the clearing was a huge, man-like, figure. It was lying on its back, arms by its sides and its legs rigidly stretched out. It reminded me of a statue that had been knocked from its pedestal.

The strange figure was about eight foot tall and broadly built. It was completely clad in banded metal armor. I estimated its weight as being at least five hundred pounds - and probably closer to eight hundred. A full helmet concealed any face and featured a strange metal flap on its brow. There were no eye-slits or other openings in the helm.

I wondered momentarily if it was some unknown form of Iron Men armor, but then dismissed the thought. The Iron Men had their secrets, but there was no good reason for a hitherto unknown suit of their very rare armor to be abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Besides, it simply didn't look like the Iron Men's kind of technology. The metal work struck me as being very different - the style seemed more old-fashioned.

Three people were clustered around the armored giant, rigging a block and tackle. They had an ox-cart and were obviously planning to pull the giant into the back of the cart. They were so busy that they took no notice us.

I examined them for a long moment. There were two men and a woman. They were Folk as near as I could tell.

"Emma?" I asked quietly.

"They don't seem hostile," she answered immediately. "Just preoccupied with getting that thing into their wagon. One of them - I think its the younger man - has a very erratic mind. He might be unpredictable."

"Is that a statue?" Faye asked curiously. "Why would such a thing be way out here?"

Emma shrugged. "Whatever it is, those people have a strong sense of reverence for it. It's important to them."

I considered my options. Common-sense suggested we should ignore this strange scene and continue on south to the outpost. Unfortunately, I'm not always allowed to heed the call of common-sense. Still, there was no need to drag everyone else into whatever might come.

I looked at Emma. "Continue on to the south. Take everyone else with you."

"No," Anna, Emma, and Rahne said simultaneously. Benjamin and Faye blinked in surprise.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a long moment. Some fools like to describe Blood culture as "patriarchal".

Then I opened my eyes and looked at Emma - who was the natural ringleader of that lot.

"I have to talk to those people," I said. "Emma, you should get back to civilization. You need to talk with Olivia and get in contact with Dare. You can tell them about the dark-elves and get them on our side. They'll help you muster the Blood. We have to hit the dark-elves, hit them hard, and hit them soon."

"It will be easier if you're with us," Emma replied stubbornly.

"You have plenty of witnesses," I pointed out, "and you can call upon the authority of... of what you are."

Several eyebrows rose among the others at my cryptic comment.

Anna looked at the Benjamin and Faye - she was still leaning on Faye for support. "Emma's really a Fire Priestess," she said helpfully. "I'm thinking she's maybe even a Graymalkin. So don't piss her off. She can kill you with her brain."

Emma gave Anna an irritated look. "If that were true, you wouldn't be here."

"She also gets kind of turned on by pretending to be a slutty Folk servant-girl," Anna finished as she glared back at Emma.

The look on Emma's face wandered out of "irritated" and into "lethal".

"Enough," I said hastily and with as much emphasis as I could manage without shouting and giving away our position. "Emma, you have responsibilities and so do I. We should be heeding them."

Emma considered that for a moment. Then she nodded abruptly. "On one condition, Rahne stays with you. I don't want you to be alone."

I hesitated. Actually, that was reasonable. But I wanted everyone gone... and safe.

"If you let me out of your sight, I'll run back to town and screw David all day and all night until I'm pregnant," Rahne told me flatly. Her eyes dared me to challenge her while she simultaneously gulped nervously.

Benjamin and Faye exchanged a long look. "Just for the record," Faye asked interestedly, "who's David?"

Everyone ignored her.

"You are nowhere near too old to spank," I warned Rahne.

"He means it, kid," Anna warned with a wicked smile. "James has a firm hand when he's mindful. He's demonstrated that to me a couple of times. Although I have to say I probably did deserve it."

Rahne suddenly looked uncertain. Emma rolled her eyes and let out a long hiss from between her teeth.

"And now she's jealous," Anna said after glancing at Emma.

"I am hardly jealous," Emma replied stonily.

"Do you people always have conversations like this?" Benjamin asked. He was leaning up against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest. He seemed fascinated.

"I'm James' wife," Anna said. "Emma's his concubine. Rahne is his adopted daughter. He's gathering a lot of women around him lately."

"Concubine?" Emma asked dangerously.

"Daughter?" Rahne said in surprise.

Anna nodded. "C'mon Emma, you like this grizzled old bastard. He's gotten under your skin. Believe me, I understand. And I'm okay with you and him as long as you understand that I have seniority. If I want to jump his bones, you just sit back and quietly wait your turn."

Emma took a dangerous step towards Anna.

While everyone was watching Anna and Emma, I slipped away.

* * *

*Coward!* Emma called out to me telepathically.

*Are you waiting for an argument?* I sent back irritably. *Get on your way and... and... see to Anna.*

*I'll take care of her,* Emma promised archly. *It's the least a loyal concubine can do for your wife.*

I was trying of come up with a response to that when Rahne caught up to me. She came sprinting up my back-trail in bare-footed silence.

That was about the time the people at the cart noticed us. They stopped what they were doing as they watched us approach.

* * *

"Greetings," I said. Then I crossed my arms over my chest in the common gesture of peace.

The eldest of the three Folk - his hair almost pure white - returned the gesture.

"Hello," he said. I could see the calculation in his eyes as he tried to assess the situation. I imagine there was a similar expression on my face.

"My name is..." I began.

"James," the woman interrupted suddenly. She was blonde, tall, and tough-looking. Her blue eyes were narrow and hard as she examined me. She was standing with the oxen, trying to keep them calm and steady. "He's a seeker of the Old One's will."

Suddenly, I could see the family resemblance between her and the older man. I could also see it between the two men. If I had to make a guess, those three people were a father and his two grown children.

The younger man was examining Rahne with some interest. That was rather bold on his part. More than a few Blood would be inclined to lethal violence if someone dared eye a girl in their company in such a frank and insolent manner.

I quashed the urge to gut him.

"You know my name, but I don't know yours," I said mildly.

The older man gave the woman a warning look. "My name is Sigmund. These two are my son and daughter - Laufey and Ingrid. How may we be of service, honored seeker?"

"A sign led me here," I said. Then I paused to see how they would react.

All three of them stirred uneasily. The younger man stopped mentally undressing Rahne and finally looked at me. I didn't like what I saw in his eyes. There was something dangerously unsettled in them. He struck me as a man who would come to a bad end, the only question being how many others he would hurt before that end finally claimed him.

There was a look about those people. They all had a narrow-faced appearance, with sharp features. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't pin it down. Up close, I could tell they were taller than you might expect, although that was offset by a tendency to muscular slenderness. And they weren't at all acting like Folk who had encountered a pair of Blood.

And then there was a distinctive scent about them. It was of iron, magic, the sea, and distant pines. I knew it.

They had Asgardian blood in their veins.

I kept my face expressionless. According to the histories, long ago - just before the rise of the Blood - Asgard actually fell to Earth. And for a while, it hung in the sky over the hellish realm of Okie. During that time, some Asgardians took mortal lovers. There were children born of those unions and that lineage continues on to this day. There aren't a great number of that particular breed, but they are wanderers. They can be found almost everywhere.

"And now that you're here, honored seeker, what does your sign tell you?" Sigmund said with a falsely amiable smile that showed a little too much teeth.

At my side, Rahne stirred uneasily

I could see it, too. There was death in their eyes. Killing was now an option. Whatever they were doing, it was that important to them.

I ignored Sigmund's question and nodded at the armored giant. "That's some interesting equipage," I said. "What is it?"

Sigmund paused as he searched for an answer to my question. Ingrid's blue eyes flicked towards him, and then back to me. Laufey actually giggled.

Then Rahne suddenly gasped, grabbed me by the shoulder, and yanked me back. That was so unexpected that I almost fell.

The armored giant had stirred. It was a slight and difficult-to-define motion, but it had happened

The two oxen hitched up to the cart were already restive. They suddenly panicked and charged away, bellowing as they ran. The woman tried to restrain them, but was dragged several yards before giving up and jumping out of the way.

The old man was backing away, his eyes tracking back and for between his son and the giant. "No, Laufey! No! Not now!" he begged.

The giant stirred again. By now Laufey was openly chortling.

"Run!" Rahne screamed. There was raw panic in her voice. It was so unlike her.

She knew something. Something that was scaring her.

The giant began clambering to its feet. It was a slow process, filled with awesome and terrible purpose. The world seemed to be holding its breath.

There was something about Laufey's eager madness and Rahne's sudden terror that finally revealed the truth to me. I am not an expert on Asgard and the other realms of Nordic mythology. The path of my life has taken me elsewhere. But I've lived a long, long time and have heard many a tale.

My blood froze as I realized what we were facing. Now I knew why the dark-elves were here - and what they were searching for. And I understood why they were both so eager and so frightened. The prize they sought was of potentially boundless value, but it was also deadly beyond words.

Rahne was still yanking at my arm. I finally heeded her, turned, and ran.

I didn't know why it was here, or how it had come to our world, but that giant was one of Odin's deadliest creations. It was his final weapon, intended to be unleashed only at the end of the world.

It was the Destroyer.


	18. Wolverine's World: The Destroyer

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE DESTROYER

While immobile, the Destroyer seemed to be a crude and blunt thing. After the Destroyer awoke, it at first seemed slow and bulky, albeit ominously powerful. But it became increasingly faster and more agile as it continued to reanimate. Within seconds, its movements acquired a startling fluidity. And the aura of power that exuded from it that was as awesome as it was frightening.

Of all the potential targets surrounding it, the Destroyer fixed upon Sigmund and bounded after him with frightening speed and sureness.

"Laufey!" Sigmund screamed desperately to his son.

"I'm tired of your orders, old man," Laufey replied almost conversationally. His narrow face was cold and uncaring.

Meanwhile, Rahne and I were sprinting for the trees.

It was over in just a moment. Sigmund tried to fight, but the Destroyer smashed through the old man's best attempts to defend himself with casual ease. Within seconds the old man was brutally and efficiently dead. The shattering of his bones was an extended series of dull crunching sounds. The splitting of his skull was a surprisingly sharp pop. Laufey watched the death of his father with detached curiosity, his eyes strangely calm and serene. It was as if Laufey was observing a sporting event in which he was only mildly interested.

Ingrid screamed helplessly as her father was ruthlessly ground to a pulp. She had been racing forward in an effort to intervene, but it was far too late. Sobbing in horror, Ingrid fell to her knees next to her father's corpse. Above her, the Destroyer loomed, but didn't attack. It seemed to be waiting for something.

"Leave her be," I heard Laufey order. His voice was quiet and self-satisfied. "Kill the two Blood."

The Destroyer was after us.

* * *

Rahne and I ran through the trees. Our kind is sure-footed in the forest and we can move very quickly in that environment. Indeed, when we're in trouble, we have a natural tendency to search out the deep woods.

Behind us, the Destroyer simply hammered its way through any obstacle. Stealing a look behind me, I saw a whirling storm of leaves, bark, tree branches, and dirt. Trees were toppling away from the path of the monster's advance. Some were even being thrown into the air.

The Destroyer was catching up to us. We couldn't outrun it.

With one hand, I grabbed a young sapling and used my momentum to spin around and face our pursuer. I didn't yell a warning of my intent to Rahne. It was too much to hope that she would keep running, but if I faced our pursuer, her natural instinct would be to attack from the flank or rear. She wouldn't be facing that damned monstrosity directly.

And then the Destroyer was on me, its massive metal arms reaching out...

I ducked low and dashed past the Destroyer, my metal claws raking against its armored hide. I was hoping I could find a weak spot in between the banding of its armor.

Sparks flew, but otherwise my claws did nothing.

A glancing, back-handed, blow from the Destroyer caught me on the shoulder and whipped me around. I heard and felt something break as I was thrown away. A blaze of pain cascaded through my shoulder.

I landed in a stand of young pines. My left arm was useless. I scrambled awkwardly to my feet.

The Destroyer was already almost on me. I dodged away as best I could.

Then there was a blur of motion as Rahne hit the Destroyer from behind. She impacted into it with her feet and hand claws - slashing savagely - but then bounced away. The Destroyer was unharmed.

Rahne and I were on either side of the Destroyer. It half-pivoted so neither of us was directly behind it.

Ignoring the pain, I lunged forward... and then stopped.

The Destroyer reacted to my move and leaped towards me. But thanks to my feint, it misjudged my final position. It landed short of me by about two yards.

Rahne hit it again from behind. This time, she threw all of her ninety pounds of weight against the back of the Destroyer's knees. Her claws skittered and scratched as they tried to find something to dig into.

To my amazement, the Destroyer was unbalanced. It staggered forward a half-step, trying not to fall.

With my good hand, I grabbed a tree branch that was just over my head. Yanking hard, I lifted myself off the ground and swung my booted feet up into the Destroyer's head - catching it just under the chin.

Like any pack hunters, Rahne and I were trying to take our opponent down to the ground. What we were going to do after that was a good question, but perhaps that didn't matter. We were Blood. We were of the same pack. There may have been no future for us, but there was a now. And we would keep fighting until we could fight no more.

Under our combined assault, the Destroyer fell - a small victory. Then Rahne and I swarmed over it, our claws searching for a point of vulnerability that just didn't seem to exist.

The Destroyer climbed to its feet, throwing us away as it rose.

"Run!" I screamed at Rahne as she scrambled backwards. I advanced. If I could keep the Destroyer busy long enough...

Rahne paused, the expression on her face torn and uncertain.

Then a lightning bolt slammed into the Destroyer and blew it away from us.

* * *

It was Olivia.

I had only met her once before, back at the Point. She was a priestess of Lady Ororo and a member of the Storm Hammers - the Lady's most ferocious order of warrior-priestesses. She wore scale armor and a winged helm, and was wielding a vicious, hammer-headed, polearm. However, her true weapon was the ultimate gift of Lady Ororo. She commanded the skies.

The Destroyer was rising yet again - although it did seem to be moving slower. In the wake of Olivia's bolt, strange blue and white arcs of light emanated from the Destroyer and bit into the ground around it. Meanwhile, pinpoints of ball lightning in every color of the spectrum raced in wild orbits around its body.

Rahne and I staggered away, half-blinded and deafened by Olivia's assault.

Olivia perhaps yelled something, but I couldn't clearly make it out. Then she pointed the hammer-head of her pole-arm at the Destroyer and unleashed another bolt of lightning.

This time, the Destroyer was ready. It leaned forward into the blast and was not knocked away.

Rahne staggered over to me, her hands over her ears and blinking rapidly. I pulled her close to me and looked around for some avenue of escape.

There was an opening through the trees. Through that gap, I could see water.

The Destroyer took a step towards Olivia. And then another one. It seemed to be slowly, but steadily, recovering from her attacks. Olivia froze in obvious amazement. I imagine she hadn't experienced too many opponents who could resist one of her lightning bolts, let alone two.

That strange "U"-shaped metal flange on the Destroyer's brow flipped down over its "face". Some kind of energy began to build up around it.

I waved frantically at Olivia with my good arm. Then I pointed at the gap in the trees.

Because of her helm, I couldn't clearly see Olivia's face, but her body language showed me that she understood.

She made a broad gesture with her weapon - a sweep that encompassed Rahne and I.

A great wind, stinging and cutting us with bits of debris, swept through the trees and over us. We were blown completely off our feet and lifted up into the sky.

A split-second after that, there was a titanic roar as the Destroyer fired some sort of bolt of incandescent energy from the device on its head - like a fire-breathing dragon from some ancient legend. He tried to track us with his beam of energy as we tumbled through the sky, but Olivia manifested a semi-hemispherical shield of lightning between the Destroyer and us. The Destroyer's beam smashed into and through Olivia's shield, but I think the monster lost sight of us amongst the bright flare of Olivia's lightning.

* * *

In mid-air, Rahne screamed and grabbed me with both arms and legs. We impacted into the water together. Olivia landed a few yards away.

Rahne got to her feet first - the water was shallow. Then she helped me up. Splashing over to Olivia we pulled her to her feet as well. Her helmet and much of her armor was gone and she had all manner of cuts, bruises, and burns. However, she was still stubbornly carrying her pole-arm.

I looked around us, trying to get orientated. We were in a semi-stagnant offshoot of the main river channel.

I could see a disturbance from the trees. The Destroyer was still after us.

Staggering and slipping, I dragged Olivia and Rahne towards the actual river. They immediately understood what I had in mind. There was a lot of debris piled up on the shore. We found a likely-looking uprooted tree that was snagged in some rocks and cut it loose. Then Olivia, Rahne, and I dove into the river and grabbed hold the now free-floating tree - putting its bulk between us and the shore.

The current caught us and we began sedately drifting downstream. We became just another piece of river waste.

My broken bones were regenerating, but I still only had one good arm. Olivia was having problems - the remnants of her scale armor was encumbering her. I jammed the back-hook of her pole-arm into the trunk so she could use it as a handle to hold onto the tree, and then wrapped my legs around hers to hold her steady. Rahne cut what was left of Olivia's armor loose and let it fall away into the depths of the river.

"What was that thing?" Olivia finally gasped out in obvious amazement.

"It's called the Destroyer," I replied tiredly.

Olivia looked at me. Her white mohawk was plastered down the side of her solid, squarish, face. There was amazement in her blue eyes.

"That... that can't be..." she said to me in slow consternation.

I hadn't really expected her to recognize what I'd said.

"I wish that were true," was all I could say in response.

Rahne could swim like an otter. As we continued drifting downstream, she occasionally dove underneath the log and checked the river-shore on the other side for signs of pursuit.

Rahne popped to the surface again, right next to us. "Still nothing," she said.

Then she looked at Olivia, her eyes filled with gratitude. "You saved us. Thank you!"

Olivia let out a soft bark of exasperated laughter. Then she took Rahne's mop of red hair in a strong hand, pulled her close, and gave her a firm kiss on the forehead.

"Priestess Dare sent word that I should watch out for you two. She said you were trouble waiting to happen, but I don't think she has any idea just how much trouble you can really be."

* * *

After an hour or so of drifting in the river, Olivia's teeth were chattering. Also, she obviously wasn't going to heal from her injuries as quickly as Rahne and I. We had to get her out of the water and into some kind of shelter.

We kicked and paddled our makeshift raft to the other side of the river. Then we waited until the tree drifted near a sandbar that had been stable for so long that it was overgrown with vegetation. Rahne and I towed Olivia ashore. Once we had solid ground under our feet, the three of us kept low - crawling when necessary - and moved through brush and tall grass until we found a dense copse of trees. We hid there.

The sun was low on the horizon. Also the weather was shifting. It was getting colder. Olivia was barely able to move and obviously needed food and rest. Rahne looked at me inquiringly and held up a dry branch of dead wood. I shook my head. We didn't know what kind of senses the Destroyer possessed. A fire might give us away.

Both Rahne and I had lost our packs. Olivia also didn't have any gear. Our clothes were shredded. I had my pants and boots, but my shirt was a torn rag. Rahne's dress - she'd been so proud of it - was now exposing more of her than it concealed. Olivia only had the padded cotton vest and trews that she'd worn under her armor, and they were torn and scorched. Both she and Rahne were barefoot.

My staff was gone. That bothered me more than it should have, but I'd carried it for decades. It had become a part of me.

In just a matter of seconds, Olivia fell asleep. I hand-wove an improvised blanket for her out of some flat reeds. It wouldn't last very long, but in my experience it could be surprisingly warm. And it was better than nothing.

While I did that, Rahne scouted around. She eventually returned with a half-dozen gutted and skinned bullfrogs, some raspberries wrapped in a bundle of cloth torn from her skirt, and half of a cracked ceramic pot that she'd found and filled with clean rainwater from a hollow log.

I woke Olivia. She eagerly drank the water and ate the berries. Rahne and I drank river water - it was no threat to us - and dined on raw frog. Olivia tried a frog-leg and managed to get it down, but she ate no more than that.

Rahne sat between Olivia and I as we ate. She was huddled up, with her knees under her chin. Olivia leaned over and wrapped the reed blanket around Rahne's shoulders. Rahne accepted the kindness with a smile.

I examined Olivia while we ate. She looked better already, and that was a remarkable recovery for someone not of the Blood. Without her formal helmet and armor, she was considerably less regal than the first time I'd seen her, but she was still a striking woman. Her white-dyed mohawk - common among the priestesses of her order - was remarkable. In addition, she was broadly built and had scars on her hands and arms that were a silent testament to a violent life. Her face was square and plain and she had a particularly large scar that ran from her forehead down to her cheek, bisecting her eyebrow. She'd just barely avoided death from that wound. She was also lucky not to have lost an eye.

I remembered how Olivia saved our lives, unhesitatingly taken on the Destroyer and throwing everything she had into an awesome attack. Perhaps the fates had not decreed that Olivia would be a beautiful woman, but they had definitely made her into someone that you wanted on your side.

"What brought you up-river?" I asked Olivia once we were done.

"I was scouting for signs of other-worldly influence," Olivia said as she cast the bones from her frog leg far into the grass that surrounded our position. "Obviously I found it - lucky me. What happened to the rest of your companions?"

"We split up just before Rahne and I encountered the Destroyer. They're heading back to the Point, carrying word that the dark-elves have returned."

"Dark-elves?" Olivia repeated as she automatically put a hand on her weapon.

"They have a fair-sized scouting force in the area," I told her. "We saw a camp with about a hundred of them, but there are more. Perhaps as much as a legion. We tangled with the dark-elves and then began retreating back to the Point. On the way, we stumbled across the Destroyer. It had wrecked an abandoned mining camp, but then it apparently walked away and went inactive. I have no idea where it came from or how it arrived on our world. A family of half-Asgardians were trying to retrieve the Destroyer when we found it. I think one of them - a young man named Laufey - can somehow command it. He used it to kill his father, and then he sent it after us. You know the rest."

Olivia considered my words before speaking. "Do you think the dark-elves are looking for the Destroyer?"

I shrugged. "It's the only thing that makes sense. If they could turn it to their will, it would be a remarkable weapon."

"How do you know about the Destroyer?" Olivia asked me curiously.

I think I smiled. "Odd. I was going to ask you the same thing."

"The servants of Lady Ororo know more about Asgard than many realize," Olivia responded without hesitation. That wasn't exactly a detailed answer, but I felt that Olivia was being frank with me. Given how many lies and half-truths I'd lately been told by priestesses, that was something of an experience.

Rahne's eyes narrowed as she stared at Olivia.

"And for my part," I said. "I have lived long and heard many strange tales. Including many about Asgard."

"You said that this Laufey fellow can command the Destroyer?" Olivia asked.

I nodded.

"Do you know where the name Laufey comes from?" Olivia continued, her blue eyes staring into mine as she leaned forward to catch my response.

I nodded again.

"What are you talking about?" Rahne blurted out suddenly.

I glanced at her. "Laufey was the name of the Frost giant who was Loki's true father."

Rahne's eyes went wide.

"As I understand it, Loki had a history of magically seizing control of the Destroyer," I continued. "He usually sent it after his brother Thor."

"So... you think that the blood-line of Loki himself is walking our world?" Olivia asked hesitantly.

I nodded.


	19. Wolverine's World: The Lady of Storms

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE LADY OF STORMS

Olivia looked better, but she wasn't Blood. Our encounter with the Destroyer - and particularly our airborne escape - had left all of us injured. However, Rahne and I were recovering far faster than Olivia ever could. Olivia was still limping, and using her pole-arm as a combined staff and crutch.

"I want you and Rahne to go on," Olivia eventually told me. Her voice was calm to the point of being almost conversational.

The sun was finally setting. Our meager camp was steadily sliding into darkness. However, I could still make out Olivia's face. Behind the bruises, burns, and cuts, she looked quite determined. As far as she was concerned, she had thought the situation through and come to the only reasonable conclusion. Olivia was one of those people who was good at accepting the unacceptable.

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully. Actually, I was fairly sure I knew where the conversation was going. The priestesses of the Temple can be a determined lot when it comes to something they feel is their duty. And, if anything, Olivia was more strong-willed than most.

"We need to get what we know back to the Point," Olivia replied without hesitation. "There is no guarantee that your friends will make it back with word of the dark-elves. And we three are the only people who know about the Destroyer and Laufey."

"We've stirred up both the dark-elves and Odin's most deadly engine of destruction," I pointed out. "Perhaps we shouldn't split up."

Olivia gave me the sharp look of somebody who was used to being obeyed. "You and Rahne can travel much faster without me. Get back to the Point, seeker. I'll hide here for a while, and once I'm feeling better I'll work my way to safety."

Rahne gave me a look that let me know she didn't like Olivia's idea. Virtually any encounter with our enemies would be the end of Olivia.

"Can you fly?" I asked. If we abandoned Olivia, that would vastly increase her chances of survival.

Actually, that was a rather rude question to ask a servant of the Lady of Storms. The ability to truly ride the winds is a special sign of Lady Ororo's favor - not many were capable of actual flight. But that wasn't the time to worry about sensibilities.

Seemingly unfazed by my question, Olivia shook her head. "The High Lady has never honored me in that way."

"Then apparently we should stay together," I suggested.

Olivia's smile was quite taut. "Seeker, are you always so sentimental about injured strays? Do the wise thing and leave me."

"I'm very sentimental when the stray in question has saved our lives," I replied dryly.

Then Olivia's smile turned crooked. "Are we really going to argue about this?"

I let out a sigh. "For all we know, the Destroyer is still stalking us. I'd rather not give away our position with a lot of yelling."

Then I squinted up at the sky. Venus was becoming visible. The moon wouldn't rise for a while. And it was still getting colder.

"Let's get some sleep," I suggested. "Whatever we decide, a few more hours of rest will help."

Olivia took the argument no further.

* * *

We didn't bother to establish watches. Rahne and I would know if anyone approached - even if we were asleep. Whether or not we could deal with whatever might discover us was another question. I had several escape routes mapped out in my head. I didn't think fighting would be a wise option.

Rahne was nestled between Olivia and I - our improvised reed blanket really wasn't big enough for the three of us, but we made the best use of it that we could. Rahne dropped off to sleep almost immediately. Olivia was more tired than she wanted to admit, and she followed Rahne into the arms of sleep in just a few moments.

With my hands behind my head, I lay awake and stared up at the sky, counting meteors and waiting for the Old One to deliver a sign. However, there were no signs to be seen. Just the stars and some faint points of light drifting along a steady route from west to east. The scholars who study the heavens claim those lights are the ships of a powerful race who live among the stars.

Olivia had her arms around Rahne. One of Olivia's hands ended up on my chest, tucked underneath what was left of my shirt. It was a completely innocent accident of sleep, born out of the natural search for body heat, but I was surprised by the effect it had on me.

Warm and erotic memories of Anna and Emma ran through my mind. The life of a seeker was supposed to be one of ascetic and solitary wandering. The company of others was not forbidden to me, but I wasn't supposed to seek it out. But lately, I'd found myself surrounded by others.

Perhaps I was not being sufficiently devoted to my path?

I was considering that unwelcome thought when sleep finally found me.

But sleep brought an unexpected visitor.

* * *

"Hello, James," Lady Ororo said to me. She was standing a few yards away, leaning with her back up against a red oak. A soft glow emanated from her, illuminating our camp in a faint light. Her straight hair fell below her waist, like a stunning banner of silver-white. She wore a strange outfit dominated by a long, yellow-trimmed, black cloak. Her arms, midriff, and upper legs were exposed. Her attire was considerably different than the long, flowing robes she's normally depicted as wearing. I've seen her garbed like that in ancient paintings in the oldest temples. In our era, those paintings are considered somewhat disrespectful and few are allowed to see them.

I gently extricated myself from Rahne and Olivia and got to my feet. Neither of them woke - which was unlikely. Rahne should have instantly sensed that something was amiss.

"I thought it would best if they continued sleeping," Lady Ororo assured me.

I bowed low to the Lady of Storms. "Gracious Lady, I am honored by your presence, but is this a dream or is it real?"

The Lady smiled at my question - humor dancing in her large blue eyes. "Why can it not be both?"

Which, of course, wasn't really an answer. The spirits do seem to love their mysteries.

"How may I serve you, my Lady?" I asked formally.

"I want nothing from you, James. I just thought we might talk."

That made me uneasy. "Talk about what?"

"About the path you have been walking ever since your old life ended."

Even after so many years, the old, old, hurt lanced through me. Once, I was a lord - and a powerful one. Many lesser lords and holders were sworn to me. My brave samurai numbered in the hundreds. My lands were bountiful and I shared that bounty with those who'd sworn themselves to me. I delivered justice when necessary and did my best to be fair and wise. I treated my vassals well.

More importantly, I had wives, sons, and daughters, and I cherished them all.

Then Malekith the Accursed led his legions to our world. Within just a few days, all I had was gone.

In the aftermath, I became a landless wanderer in the service of the Old One. A wanderer who was really searching for... for...

I shook my head to drive away the rest of that thought.

"With all respect, my Lady," I said carefully. "My path does not involve you. I am sworn to the Old One."

Lady Ororo's smile became even broader. "I will not deny that, James. However, can you not allow a moment for one of the Old One's closest companions?"

I nodded immediately. "Of course, my Lady."

The Lady returned my nod. "James... I am concerned that you have recently missed some important signs."

I think I blinked in surprise. Then I frowned. "My Lady, seeking for signs is what I do. After all these years, I hope I'm good at it."

Lady Ororo took a step closer me. The impact of her sheer presence was... difficult to describe. I could see why she and the Old One had been so close. "You have followed signs, James. Lately, you have been following some very important signs. But perhaps there have been signs that are too close to who you are. So close that you cannot quite bring yourself to truly see them."

"What signs?" I asked bluntly. Perhaps I dared allow a note of challenge to creep into my words.

"Oh, James..." the Lady chided, shaking her head at my obtuseness. "In just the last few days you have encountered a lost wife and a long-absent daughter. And you have also found a new lover and a new daughter. Tell me, seeker. What do those signs mean? What are they trying to tell you?"

I stared at the goddess.

It was like I had been hit by a thunderbolt. I was stunned. I couldn't move or speak.

The signs I saw were about the Old One and the Blood, about justice and need, about history and the world. They were about events great and small, but they weren't about me. Because there was no 'me'. Not anymore. I'd been dead inside for so long.

Yet somehow I'd never found true death. No matter how hard I tried to find it.

"Why are you telling me this?" I finally asked.

The Lady took my face in her hands and kissed me.

"It is an old habit, James - I dragged your grandfather back from the edge more than once, and you remind me so much of him. Oh, and thank you for taking care of Olivia. Please be patient with her. She is one of my bravest daughters, but she can be stubborn."

Then she kissed me again.

"Consider the signs, seeker," Lady Ororo whispered to me.

And then she was gone.

* * *

"Daddy?" Rahne asked anxiously. She had her hands on my shoulders and was shaking me. Startled out of my dream, my eyes met hers. She was frightened.

I took Rahne in my arms and hugged her tight. She buried her face in my chest.

I was standing in the middle of our camp. It was still dark, but now it was raining - a warm and gentle rain that had thankfully replaced the recent chill.

That was no accident, of course.

Olivia was on her feet, but keeping her distance. She was staring at me and worry was written all over her face. I suppose it looked to her as if I was having some kind of attack or seizure.

Still holding onto Rahne, I looked up into the cloud-covered sky and let the downpour trickle down my face.

It tasted of life.


	20. Wolverine's World: The Questions of a Storm Priestess

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE QUESTIONS OF A STORM PRIESTESS

It a good five hours until sunrise and a storm was sprawled all around us. Lightning flickered on every horizon as thunder steadily growled and boomed. The rain was thick and heavy, but at least it wasn't cold.

"This will give us cover," I told Olivia and Rahne. "We should get moving."

Rahne nodded. After a moment of tired hesitation, Olivia spoke up, "What I said before is still true. I'll slow you down."

I didn't deny it. "Let's put in an hour of travel. Then we'll consider our options." I was hoping that once Olivia got moving, sheer stubbornness would make it impossible for her to give up.

Olivia glanced up at the sky. The rain slapped against her pale face and washed her white mohawk down the back of her head and neck. She was examining the sky carefully, as if it was a friend that she hadn't seen for a long time.

"I could attempt to modify the storm," she suggested thoughtfully. "It would ease near us, but be stronger at a distance."

"Try it," I agreed. That was good. If Olivia decided she was doing something to aid our escape, she'd be far less inclined towards self-sacrifice.

We slowly began working our way south. Rahne led the way. Olivia leaned against me for support. Her eyes turned into a whirl of dark-gray, flecked with blue and white electricity, as she sought to master the storm.

* * *

After three hours, I was essentially carrying Olivia. Meanwhile, Rahne continued to scout ahead. She was quite good at finding deer trails and shallow fords. I'd told her to keep us close to the river-bank and away from the roads that paralleled the Huds river.

Olivia had managed to establish some control over the storm. Around us, the rain and wind were fairly mild. But just a few dozen yards away, the storm was far angrier.

We twice had to go to ground when dark-elf scouts passed by. They were three-elf teams of lightly armored skirmishers. They moved well in the woods, but were obviously hindered by the weather. One group passed within ten yards of us, but thanks to the storm didn't spot us.

I silently thanked both Olivia and Lady Ororo for their assistance. Rahne and I could take a small group of dark-elf scouts, especially with the advantage of surprise, but that might attract unwanted attention.

As a wet and gray dawn broke, we finally found what I'd been looking for. It was a small point of land that jutted out into the Huds river. It had been cleared of trees and obviously used repeatedly as a camp. It was currently abandoned. On the edge of the clearing, we stumbled across a mostly-intact lean-to. We took shelter underneath it as we considered our next move.

"What is this place?" Rahne asked curiously as Olivia promptly curled up in a corner of the lean-to and closed her eyes. As soon as she did, the storm around us intensified.

"It's a rendezvous - a place where fur-trappers and river-merchants meet to trade," I answered. "It has the advantage of being just outside the reach of the Point's tax-collectors."

Rahne nodded. Her red hair was plastered down around her face and the remnants of her dress was clinging to her body like a second skin.

"Check the riverbank, including any creeks," I told Rahne. "See if you can find a raft or a dugout. There are usually a few left in the area. They might be hidden in the brush, or even buried."

Rahne nodded and vanished into the rain.

I began rubbing Olivia's hands and feet, trying to keep her warm.

"When you're done with that," Olivia told me sleepily, "please draw a warm bath - and make sure there's a good selection of oils and scents. Then get me a bottle of your finest white wine and a good selection of fruit and cheese. Oh, and I'd prefer a younger and prettier attendant."

A wry smile crept over my face. "I'm sorry, most honored lady, but none of that is available at the moment."

"The management will hear of this outrage," Olivia sighed.

* * *

"What happened last night?" Olivia whispered to me. We were still in the lean-to, waiting in the shadowy morning light for Rahne to return.

"What do you mean?" I asked. There was no harm in conversation. The storm would hide our words. Besides, I knew there was nobody in the near area except for us.

"This storm... I can tell it isn't natural," Olivia said. "It's been generated by someone, and it's huge. Only a few of the followers of Lady Storm could even begin to attempt this. And it rolled in just before you began walking in your sleep."

I hesitated for a good half-minute before responding. "I had a strange dream. Lady Ororo came to me and we spoke."

Olivia also considered her words for some time before speaking again. "What did she say?"

"She seems to think I should reconsider my life as a seeker."

"Do you think it was real? Or that it was just a dream?"

I raised my hands helplessly. "I asked the Lady the same question. Her answer was essentially 'yes'."

Olivia shook her head tiredly. "You move in rare company, James."

"That's part of my job," I replied with a sigh, "but I must admit that it has been much more dramatic lately."

Olivia was silent for a while.

"Tell me about you and Emma," she said finally.

That surprised me. "Why are you interested?" I asked.

"I'm curious to hear your opinion of her."

I shrugged. "Actually, I think a great deal of Emma, but I suppose it would be wise to assume that I'm just part of her mission."

Olivia grunted. "She's broken more than a few hearts in her service to the Lady of Fire, but I do think she honestly likes you."

"How well do you know her?" I asked.

"We were acolytes together, and we became friends. We were initiated as priestesses in the same ceremony. And once we were released from our vows of celibacy, we spent a lot of time with each other."

Emma and Olivia were so different that some might find it hard to see them as lovers. Actually, it struck me as quite possible. There is something to the ancient idea that opposites attract.

"How long were you together?" I asked.

"About a year. Then our duties took us in different directions. We drifted apart."

"Are you still friends?"

Olivia let out a long sigh. "I hope so. But what she has become - all of the spying, lying, and play-acting - makes it hard to know the truth about what she thinks and feels. I fear that her calling has changed her."

"It sounds like we have some of the same concerns about her."

Olivia chuckled. "It does, doesn't it?"

* * *

Rahne was back.

"I found a raft," she reported. "I put it into the water and it floats, but that's about all I can say for it. It's pretty old and beat-up."

I nodded. "It'll have to do."

Rahne looked skeptical. "Should we be on the river in this weather?"

Olivia's eyes darkened again and the storm began to ease around us. "Have some faith, young lady," she told Rahne.

Rahne and I carefully helped Olivia onto a three-log raft. As she settled in, I handed Olivia her hammer-headed polearm. Despite her weakness, Olivia simply refused to leave it behind. However, in the process of awkwardly boarded the raft, she'd left it leaning against a shore-line stump.

Overhead, there was a bright bolt of unusually strong lighting. In the flash, I caught a glimpse of a symbol that seemed to be engraved in the steel head of the pole-arm. It was a short-handled hammer with a large and blocky head. It overlay a lightning bolt. The emblem seemed to glow in reflection of the lightning overhead.

I made a point of not reacting. And I moved my body to block Rahne from catching a glimpse of what I'd seen.

The thunder from the lightning bolt rolled over us as the lightly glowing symbol faded away.

Olivia quickly took the weapon from my hands and laid it down beside her on the raft - flipping the hammer head around so the side with the mystical engraving was no longer visible.

There was a look on her face that I can only call shame.

I cut some long poles and we used them to push away from the shore. As the current caught us, we lay down and piled tree boughs over us. It would never have worked on a clear day with good visibility, but thanks to the rain, we were once again nothing more than river debris.

* * *

It was mid-day. The hours had passed in tense silence and the rain softened as the storm began letting up. We kept to our cover under the tree boughs. Our progress down-river had been slow, but steady. Every now and then I had to stick a pole out from underneath our cover and use it to work our way around some obstacle.

I'd just finished shoving us clear of a mud-flat when Olivia spoke up.

"Tell me about that elf woman who's your wife," she said suddenly. "There's this terribly romantic tale about you saving her life by breaking into an evil lord's dungeon and marrying her."

I didn't think Olivia could see me roll my eyes, but I did it anyway. "That's the gist of the story."

"And she abandoned you afterwards?"

"More or less. I suppose neither of us took the marriage seriously. It was just a tactic to free her."

"You suppose?" Olivia asked. One of her fine eyebrows was raised questioningly.

I just shrugged.

Olivia let that go. "The way I heard the story, she's back and begging for your forgiveness. And she's steadily chipping away at your fortress of righteous anger by providing an unending stream of exotic elvish sexual favors."

Rahne stifled a giggle.

"Anna doesn't beg for anything - least of all forgiveness," I replied stiffly. "Also, I'm not angry at her and the only sex we've had since she returned was to fulfill a burial ceremony. Who's telling these tales?"

"Are you joking?" Olivia laughed. "'The Tale of Anna and James' is becoming a favorite of the market-place story-tellers. You can hear the basic story from any tale-teller for a few coppers. Try Sarah Many-Voices if you want to hear a good rendition of the erotic version, but that costs a silver-piece per customer."

"Oh, for the love of the Old One!" I growled in disgust.

"If we make it back to town, can I borrow a silver piece?" Rahne asked innocently.

"No," I said flatly.

"Yes," Olivia countered with a smile that lit up her otherwise exhausted face.

* * *

By my estimate we were a mile north of the river fort when our raft began falling apart - the ropes holding the logs together were old and frayed and had begun to disintegrate in the water. So we grounded our crumbling conveyance and clambered ashore. The rain was now just a drizzle. The sky was still overcast, but I thought the morrow would be a clear day.

"I have another question," Olivia said as I helped her down the trail that Rahne had found for us. She was moving easier, but still needed aid.

"Why am I not surprised?" I said with an exasperated shake of my head.

Olivia didn't seem even slightly offended by my response. Actually, I didn't really mind. It was important that Olivia keep putting one foot in front of another. Her questions - and my answers - seemed to be helping.

"It's a question that some might consider indelicate," she continued.

"My relationship with Rahne is purely innocent," I replied quickly.

Olivia gave me a hard look. "I know that! And what made you think my question was about that?"

"You've been rather curious about the women in my life," I pointed out.

"That's fair," she conceded, "but this question goes beyond that."

"So what is it?" I asked.

"There are a lot of strange stories about you, James. And some of them go back a long time. Just how old are you?"

I was tired and preoccupied and Olivia was a person with the knack for making you want to answer her.

So I told her.

For a long time, Olivia was silent.

"Is that true?" she then asked me doubtfully.

By then, I was beginning to think better of what I'd just said. "Perhaps I was just joking," I hedged.

Olivia nodded, but there was something speculative in the expression on her face.

"If that were true," she mused. "I mean, if you were really that old. Why... you might even be old enough to have met Logan himself."

"That's possible," I agreed.

_I remembered a voice - low and strong. A pair of hands picking me up, tossing me in the air, and then catching me. A gruff laugh, short white hair, and a pair of dark eyes. He was smaller than my father, but somehow he always seemed to be the biggest man in the room._

"You might even have met Lady Ororo herself. In the flesh... not in a dream or vision."

I said nothing.

_I wish I had, but I did remember the days of sadness when word came that she had passed._

"You would have seen so much," Olivia continued. "The Doom war. The unification of the Temple. The signing of the Wilder accords. The Phoenix rebellion. The final Weaponex crusade. The breaking of the Creed horde. The rise and fall of Sinister... dear Goddess, you would even have survived the Burning!"

Again, I said nothing.

_Sometimes I'd been a bystander, sometimes a participant, and sometimes a person who helped make the decisions - good and bad - that determined the course of history._

Olivia fell silent. I waited for her next question and wondered how to respond.

To my surprise, there was none.

* * *

A patrol from the Point contacted us about fifteen minutes later. Rahne led a band of Blood samurai and Folk archers back to us. They looked like they'd been in a recent fight.

"Priestess Olivia!" the eldest samurai said with a quick half-bow - it was no time for formalities, "We had orders to watch for you."

Olivia stopped leaning against me. She stood tall and proud and suddenly it didn't matter that she was smeared with mud, half-covered with bruises, and without her formal armor. She was once again a Hammer of Lady Ororo.

I watched carefully for any sign that she was about to collapse.

"I take it you know about the dark-elves," she said as she examined the battered warriors.

"There have been running fights all along the frontier ever since last night," the leading samurai said angrily. "We were getting the worst of it - our patrols were all spread out when they hit us - but then a storm came in. That allowed us to break contact and get reorganized."

Olivia glanced upwards in silent thanks.

"Take us to the fort," she ordered.

* * *

The frontier was abuzz. On our way to the fort, we encountered crossroad pickets, alert-looking patrols, and long columns of marching troops. To my experienced eye, there weren't enough warriors to take on a full legion of dark-elves. And we also had nothing that could handle the Destroyer.

On the road leading to the river fort, there were several shrines - they were the last thing a soldier saw before leaving the fort, and the first thing he or she saw when coming home.

Olivia paused before the one dedicated to the Lady of Storms and bowed her head in silent prayer. Our escort waited at a respectful distance. Rahne and I stayed with Olivia.

Then Olivia knelt in front of the statue of the Goddess herself and kissed her stone feet. "I'm sorry," I heard her whisper. She was so quiet that even Rahne and I only barely heard her.

Rahne gave me a puzzled look.

I didn't say anything.

I was pretty sure that Olivia wasn't apologizing for anything she'd done. She was apologizing for something she planned on doing.

Sometimes, even the most worthy run out of choices.


	21. Wolverine's World: The Wife and the Concubine

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE WIFE AND THE CONCUBINE

There was a priestess of the Lady of Blades stationed at the fort. Her job was to care for the spiritual needs of its samurai and other warriors - a group that the Deadly Lady has always particularly cherished.

The priestess and a pair of her acolytes appeared quickly, took charge of Olivia, and then escorted her back to the fort's chapel.

A senior samurai and I then proceeded to have a frustrating conversation. I needed to see the commander of the fort, but that wasn't possible.

"He isn't here, seeker," the senior samurai told me impatiently. "He's in the field, gathering our forces and trying to get an idea of what we're facing."

That sounded annoyingly correct. Of course the samurai captain was out with his troops. That was exactly where he should be.

"We think you're facing an entire dark-elf legion," I warned the samurai.

"So we've been told," the samurai said quietly. "I hope you're wrong."

"And there's an incredibly powerful Asgardian weapon," I continued. "It looks like a huge man in armor. It's also out there somewhere. I think it's the reason the dark-elves are here. They're looking for it."

"It's really bad," Rahne piped up. She was standing next to me.

The samurai looked about him, his eyes seeming to count the warriors that were his responsibility. I knew that look. He was wondering how many of them he would send to their deaths. I remembered how that felt.

"The rest of your party is here and waiting for you," the samurai finally replied. I had the distinct impression he was hoping that particular bit of news would make Rahne and I go away.

Frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair as I considered my next move. Olivia needed rest and a session with a healer before she would be able to travel. But perhaps Emma and I could begin to get matters organized.

"We need to see them," I told the samurai.

He nodded and bellowed an order.

* * *

Near the front gate, there was a decrepit stone structure that was the oldest building on the fort - in fact, once upon a time it had been the entire fort. As the fort grew, it was eventually converted into a barracks. The interior was dominated by a single large bay filled with neatly arrayed wooden bunks. The fort now used it to accommodate travelers... and sometimes prisoners.

Anna, Benjamin, and Faye were waiting there. Much to my irritation, there was no sign of Emma.

When Anna saw us, she leaped onto me - clearing much of the barrack's bay in one jump. I was almost knocked off my feet, but somehow managed to keep us both off the ground.

Faye and Rahne watched with startled eyes. Benjamin just looked amused.

Anna had both arms, both legs, and her tail wrapped around me. Her lips were pressed against mine and her tongue was deep in my mouth. I'd intended to grab her by the thighs to support her weight, but somehow my hands ended up cupping her buttocks instead.

Upon reflection, that was rather undignified, but at the time I didn't really care.

Anna broke off her kiss and put her mouth next to my ear.

"The nearest bed," she whispered. "Right now."

"I don't think..." I began.

Keeping her legs wrapped around me, but with her intent yellow eyes locked on mine, Anna let go of me with her arms and began stripping off her blouse. I knew she wouldn't stop until she was naked.

"Right. Fucking. Now." she demanded huskily.

Benjamin waved a hand to catch my attention and then pointed to a wooden door on the far wall.

"It's private," he said.

There were more productive things I should be doing, but I had the distinct impression what was about to happen wouldn't take very long for either Anna or I.

Anna still had some of her clothes on by the time I got her inside the door. It led to a small room with a single bunk - a patrol leader's quarters, I imagined. It smelled of Benjamin and Faye.

"Don't mind me!" Rahne yelled as she trailed behind us, dutifully and irritably picking up Anna's trail of discarded clothing. "I'll just go do something chaste, proper, and maidenly! Y'know maybe some sewing or washing!"

I kicked the door shut behind Anna and I. I could still hear Rahne's complaints, but the were muted and at the moment I was preoccupied.

* * *

After we were done, Anna and I lay intertwined on the bunk in a tangle of blue and white flesh. Our hot scent filled the room, intermingled with that of Benjamin and Faye.

"That was better than the grave-sex," Anna mused aloud. "I really can't seem to let myself go at funerals."

She was referring to the burial of the two dead ronin bodyguards who we'd found just before our encounters with the dark-elves and the Destroyer.

"It's too public and too close to death," I responded. "Many people find it uncomfortable."

Anna turned her head and looked at me. "You didn't seem to have a problem. As I recall, you gave me and Emma a proper workout. I'm sure the spirits of those two dead yojimbo were suitably pleased."

"I have more experience," I replied with a shrug.

"Emma certainly seemed to enjoy it," Anna suggested carelessly - as if it mattered nothing to her.

I sighed and gave in to the inevitable. "Yes, she did. By the way, where is Emma?"

Anna rolled over, slipping out from under the blanket and impudently exposing a bare blue backside in the process. She bent her leg at the knee and dangled one of her three-toed feet in the air. The golden anklet that she never removed slid down to the tapering bulge of her muscular calf.

"I'm glad you mentioned her," Anna said - ignoring the fact that she'd actually mentioned Emma first. "I'm worried that her mission is to keep an eye on you."

"It is," I conceded, "although she's now obviously distracted by other issues."

"Ditch her," Anna said bluntly.

I shook my head. "Up in Alban, a Storm priestess named Dare invoked the friendship between the Old One and Lady Storm. In its name, I agreed to allow Emma to accompany me."

"It was a trick," Anna pointed out.

"I knew that. And Dare knew that I knew. That changes nothing about the power of such a request."

With vast dignity, Anna changed positions until she was sitting up. Her legs were now crossed beneath her and her hands were on her knees. Then she gave me a solemn, steady, and serious look.

Uh-oh.

"I don't approve of Emma," she said flatly.

In the tangled world of Blood tradition and law, a wife has certain rights relative to her husband's concubines.

"I cannot release her as a companion," I replied. As a seeker, I also have certain rights - and duties. "However, if you prefer, then Emma and I will no longer be lovers."

Anna gave me a long and irritated look. "I want her gone because I think she has hostile intent, not because she opens her legs for you. That elderly doxy of a chubby priestess is no competition to me."

*Really?* came an icy mental message from Emma. *Are you basing that on your vast experience in abandoning your husband? Or in selling your body to anybody with spare change?*

Both Anna and I heard it.

* * *

Anna was indeed stark naked as she teleported out of the room we'd just shared. And she was carrying a throwing knife.

I got the door open just in time to see what was happening, but I didn't have enough time to intervene.

Emma was sitting on the far end of the bay. It looked like she had been talking to Benjamin, Faye, and Rahne. Looking righteously angry, Emma got to her feet. And that was when Anna pitched her knife at Emma.

Emma is a powerful and dangerous mentalist. That made her justifiably confident, but in a more physical kind of confrontation that could easily become overconfidence. Emma was about to take a knife to the midsection.

Fortunately, with the effortless grace of his kind, Benjamin reached over and caught the knife in mid-air.

Emma retaliated by sending a wave of psychic torment in Anna's direction. But Anna was already teleporting away. She'd had plenty of experience over the years fighting telepaths and mages. One of the primary rules was to keep on the move and never present a clear target.

I, on the other hand, caught Emma's blast head-on. I fell back into the room as my brain malfunctioned and my limbs began twitching uncontrollably.

As I struggled to get my body to cooperate, I could hear the battle raging between Anna and Emma.

* * *

The bay was a wreck, many of the bunks had been tossed about and knocked over. Some were broken to pieces.

Benjamin handed me a glass of whiskey. I downed it without hesitation.

Then he poured me another one. It didn't last any longer than the first. I was still woozy from Emma's accidental attack. Whiskey didn't really help, but it was as good a response as any.

"This isn't how I planned on spending the evening," I told Benjamin disgustedly. "I'm supposed to be saving our people from disaster."

"At some point or another, you're going to have to settle this mess," Benjamin replied with a helpless shrug. "The faster you get it out of the way, the faster you can get back to other issues."

"I can't believe you two!" Faye raged. She was in her full Green Bastard form and she was standing between Anna and Emma. Faye was currently enforcing a fragile truce.

The two combatants were sitting on opposite bunks, angrily facing each other with their arms crossed in front of their bodies. Anna was still naked and was having problems with her balance - Emma had finally tagged her with a psychic attack. Blood was flowing from a cut in her ear where Emma had landed a ferocious kick to the side of her head. Emma, on the other hand, had a split lip, a savage bite wound on her forearm that was oozing blood, and the beginnings of a black eye. Her clothes were torn and disheveled.

Rahne was sitting in a corner, watching with a combination of fascination and amusement.

Faye pointed an accusing finger in my direction. "What is it with him? Does he have a foot-long cock or something? Or is it that you two just can't deal with the possibility of losing to each other? Wives and concubines have been finding common ground since the beginning of time! Why are you two such a pair of special princesses!?"

Anna snarled at Faye silently. Meanwhile, something tightened in Emma's face.

"James and I have never declared ourselves to be Blood and concubine," Emma said coldly. "And this blue tart is hardly worthy of being called a wife."

The fight erupted again.

* * *

Now the bay was truly wrecked. Almost nothing was intact.

Anna and Emma were breathing hard and standing against opposite walls. In addition to her previous injuries, Anna now had long rows of fingernail marks clawed into her face and a series of small bite marks on her stomach and breasts. Emma was sporting a full broken nose and was cradling one of her hands in a manner that suggested she'd broken some bones after landing an ill-advised punch. Her jacket and blouse had been torn away and she was bare-breasted.

Faye was limping and had a dark-green bruise over one eyebrow. However, she looked even more determined that before to keep the peace.

Rahne had her mouth open and was gingerly pushing a tooth back into its socket - that way it would heal back without having to regrow entirely. She'd pitched in to help when things got too wild for even Faye to control by herself.

A half-dozen heavily-armored provost samurai were clustered just inside the barracks door. About half of them were trying to take their responsibility seriously. The other half just seemed to be enjoying the show.

I handed Benjamin the bottle of whiskey - the glass was broken. He drank and then handed the bottle back to me. It takes a lot to get a Blood and a Wallcrawler drunk, but we were well on our way.

Still holding the bottle, I got to my feet.

"Everyone except Anna and Emma get out," I announced.

Everyone either looked at me or each other, but nobody moved.

"I must talk with these two," I said as I made a gesture with the bottle that included both Anna and Emma. "There are things we should settle."

I almost finished the bottle in one long gulp. Then I capped the bottle and tossed it over my shoulder to Benjamin. I didn't hear it hit the floor, so he must have caught it.

There was long and awkward silence. The Blood in charge of the provost warriors made a silent gesture to his samurai and they left. He was the last of them out the door. He gave me a sympathetic look.

Benjamin, Faye, and Rahne followed them out. Benjamin was leaning on Faye and whispering something in her ear. Faye looked rather amused.

Anna and Emma didn't move, of course. But now their attention was on me.

Their eyes seemed to glitter with endless fury.

"Let's talk," I said.

* * *

A half-hour later, the three of us walked out onto the porch steps of the barracks. Benjamin, Faye, and Rahne were waiting. Also the provost samurai, and two dozen or so interested civilian bystanders and dependents. A few troops, who surely must have had something better to do considering that a war had begun, were also watching curiously.

The fort priestess - a Blood female dressed in black and gray robes - was also present. She was the true witness to what we were about to say. Speaking before her meant that we were speaking before the goddesses. Emma had called her telepathically and asked her to attend.

Anna was wearing my jacket, but nothing else. Her long and graceful legs were a lovely sight. Emma had a blanket wrapped like a shawl around her bare upper body. It was a simple thing that gave her an aura of tremendous dignity. It was a shame they both otherwise looked like a pair of Jerse pit-fighters after a long set of particularly ugly matches.

Words had to be spoken, but custom dictated that there was an order to such things. So after taking a deep breath, and then glancing at Emma and I, Anna stepped forward and spoke first.

"My name is Anna. I am of the lineage of the Shifting Lady and her son, and I am a free bard," she announced.

Then she paused a moment before speaking again. The crowd waited expectantly.

"I am the wife of James the seeker," she finally continued. "However, our respective lives keep us distant from each other. As such, my husband took a woman named Emma as his concubine. He did so without my specific permission, but I was not present, so that was justified. I acknowledge James' and Emma's right to this relationship. I regret anything I have said or done that suggests otherwise. I also regret any angry words I have spoken about my husband's chosen companion - such as when I called her a pretentious whore who predated on lonely older men. Or when I said she was a fat tub of lard only capable of satisfying a man in the least sophisticated manner imaginable. Or when I said she was a ugly cow with unseemingly obese udders that..."

There was a pained look on the face of the Blade priestess.

I put a hand on Anna's shoulder and squeezed firmly. Anna shut her mouth with an audible click of her teeth and stepped back.

Emma was next. Believe it or not, she actually looked nervous. Even worse, her broken nose and black eyes were beginning to give her a raccoon-like appearance. And the priestess was watching her very closely.

"My name is Emma of Alban and I serve in the Temple of the Three Goddesses," she began. What she was saying had the advantage of being both true and not too revealing. For the purposes of what we were doing, that was sufficient.

"I acknowledge that I am a concubine of James the seeker. I acknowledge that his wife is Anna the bard. I acknowledge the primacy of Anna's relationship with him. However, I reserve the right to at a later date become a junior wife to James. If that happens, I hope Anna and I can live in comity as sister-wives."

Anna and I gave each other a startled look. That was the first either of us had heard of that last part. And was it just my imagination, or did the priestess of Lady Blades smile slightly?

"I also regret many of my recent words," Emma continued more comfortably. "For example, when I said Anna was a drunken trollop who would give anyone a blowjob for a free drink. Or when I said that after taking a copper-piece for spreading her legs, she gives back change. Or when I said her favorite sexual activity involved an elvish position in which she simultaneously satisfies eight men with her hands, feet, tail, and three major orifices. Or..."

The priestess actually rolled her eyes.

"Emma!" I growled.

Emma ground to a halt. Then she carefully wiped the smile from her face, bowed her head, and stepped back.

It was my turn. I stepped forward.

An elderly Folk man in the crowd - a wagoneer by the look of him - shook his head and said quietly, "God help you, my friend."

Most of the men nodded sympathetically. So did some of the women. The priestess of Lady Blades had a professionally inscrutable look on her face, but something about her body language seemed to indicate some level of agreement.

I ignored that - it was a sincere sentiment and not meant as an insult.

"I am James the seeker," I started. "Anna is my wife and Emma is my concubine. Any who injures or insults them will answer to me. The customs pertaining to women of their respective stations are known to me and I will unyieldingly respect them."

The various men in the crowd nodded in solemn agreement and there was a scatter of approving applause. Then they began drifting away. For them, the show was over.

That left a number of unmoving and obviously expectant women. The included the Priestess. She was giving me a look that suggested I really wasn't done.

Faye cleared her throat loudly and made an urgent 'go on!' gesture with her hands.

I think I gave her a blank look.

Without making a sound, Rahne slowly and clearly mouthed the words, "I. Love. You."

Oh.

Yes.

"And I love them both dearly," I added.

Bright smiles appeared on the faces of the crowd. Faye and Rahne led another burst of applause. Anna and Emma crowded next to me - keeping to their respective sides - and kissed me on the cheeks.

The priestess nodded at us, turned on her heel, and stalked away.

* * *

Anna and Emma were off to see a healer. Rahne was with them.

"How did you do that?" Benjamin asked me. There was something like awe on his face.

"I appealed to Anna and Emma's sense of fair play and reason," I told him.

Benjamin considered that for a while. "No... really... how did you do that?"

I sighed. "I told them that we'd all probably be dead soon and I wanted their spirits beside me for all eternity. And the only way that would happen is if we respected the ways of the Blood, declared our relationships and intents, and settled our disagreements."

Benjamin nodded his head slowly, a slow smile steadily growing on his plain face. "Good. Very good - smooth and well considered. Neither of them was willing to let the other have you to themselves, even in the afterlife. So they compromised on that basis."

"I prefer to believe that they just came to their senses," I countered.

Benjamin just chuckled. The man was something of a cynic.

About that time, Faye walked up to us, picked up Benjamin, and slung him over her shoulder. Given that she was back in her Folk form, that was impressive. Some Green Bastards maintain part of their great strength when they're human. Faye was obviously one of those.

"We're borrowing the room again," Faye told me as she mounted the stairs.

"Romance makes Faye randy," Benjamin informed me as he awkwardly craned his head to continue speaking in my direction. He didn't seem too disturbed by what was happening.

"Damn right," Faye said as they vanished inside the barracks.


	22. Wolverine's World: The Mage

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE MAGE

There was a row of huts along the side of the fort farthest from the gate. One of them was the quarters of the now-absent fort commander. The others were usually inhabited by various senior members of the fort's garrison.

The fort's mage lived in one of those huts and I needed to talk to him. Finding the hut was no problem. Mages - the current one and his predecessors - had lived in it for so long that the structure seemed to hum slightly with arcane energies.

I knocked on the door and waited. From inside the hut, I could smell expensive incense and hear a faint droning sound.

The droning ceased as a tiny figure clad in simple orange robes opened the door. She was so small that at first I thought she was a girl - even younger than Rahne. But than I took a closer look and realized that she was actually a full adult.

Behind her, I could see nothing. The interior of the hut seemed completely dark. Given the hut's open door and windows, that was impossible, of course, but I'd seen the effect before. Some mages use it to preserve their privacy, while also invoking a suitable aura of mystery.

"I am James the seeker," I told the servant. "I wish to see the magus."

The tiny fox-like woman peered at me with unblinking eyes. She wasn't of this world, of course. A mage almost always has an innocuous-appearing bodyguard and servant - and it's not a good idea to challenge them.

"Let him in," a voice called from inside the hut.

The servant wordlessly stepped out of the way and I walked into the darkness.

* * *

As I stepped inside, the darkness vanished and the interior of the hut was revealed. It was simply furnished. There was a neatly-made bed, a table, a pair of full bookshelves, and a few storage trunks. Some simple cook-ware was stacked near the fireplace. Books and papers were scattered across the table. Incense was burning in the fireplace. The floor was paved with carefully-fitted flat stones.

The furnishings were positioned against the white-washed walls of the hut. In the center of the room, sigils and runes had been etched onto the stones of the floor in an intricately complex circular pattern.

The mage was floating in mid-air in the exact center of the room. He was cross-legged and his hands were resting on his knees. His eyes were closed as I entered, but they opened to peer curiously at me.

Before him, there was a translucent blue-white image. It took me a moment to realize that it was a very accurate-appearing relief map of the local region. Dots and blobs of different colors - reds and yellows mostly - seemed to litter its surface. If I had to make a guess, the mage was searching for something. And judging from the look on his face, he wasn't having much luck.

As I watched, the map flickered and vanished.

"Greetings, honored one," the mage said to me as he stepped down from his floating position. His body language was the same as if he were dismounting from some sort of platform.

"My name is Cyrus," he continued. "I am of the house of Strange."

* * *

Cyrus was a dark and slender man in dark-blue clothing. His silent servant quickly retrieved the red-with-gold cloak that marked him as a student of the house of Strange, and then reverently wrapped it around his shoulders. That wasn't an ostentatious or vain gesture. Such things are not only important indicators of rank and place, they very much have a power of their own. That's part of the reason I wear my tooth and claw necklace - and why I missed my staff so dearly.

"How may I aid you, seeker James?" Cyrus asked politely. His eyes, however, seemed strangely intent as he examined me. I suppose it was possible that there was a scent of otherworldly powers about me. After all, I'd encountered so many of late.

"There is a creature of Asgardian legend," I said. "It's called 'the Destroyer'. Do you know of it?"

There was a long pause as Cyrus continued to study me. His servant didn't react at all, but her eyes also never wavered from me.

"Yes, I've heard of it," Cyrus replied slowly. "It is said to be a creation of Odin himself. According to legend, it will be summoned at the end of time to fight a terrible and unknown enemy. Given that the key evils of Ragnarok are all named, that's always been troubling."

"I don't suppose you could defeat it in a fight?" I asked.

This time, Cyrus' pause was quite long.

"No," he finally answered.

"Then I need to talk to your master," I said quietly.

* * *

To all appearances, we were in Nyack. Specifically, we were in the Sanctum Sanctorum of Ancient Strange.

Of course, that was an illusion. I am not a student of magic, but I know some of the basic theory. We were actually in something that was like a psionic mindscape, but its origins were mystical rather than telepathic.

Since we had requested an audience with Ancient Strange, he had every right to set the rules - and the appearance - of our meeting. It looked as if we were in a great room that was a combination of library, museum, and mystical workshop. A large circular window with an oddly banded frame and curved intrusions dominated the slanted roof. Other light came from lanterns that did not seem to actually burn.

It was an impressive feat. I've been in the real Sanctum Sanctorum. Everything about the image rang true - even down to the details of scent.

Ancient Strange was hovering in mid-air - in the same manner and position as had Cyrus. He was a wizened figure; hairless, wrinkled, and with hands gnarled by vast age. And yet his eyes were bright with awareness. However, the good humor I was used to seeing there was absent.

Cyrus stood beside me, but this conversation didn't really involve him. He was simply the means of maintaining our side of it.

"Hello, James," Ancient Strange said. As always, his voice was stronger than his appearance.

"Stephen," I replied with a nod of my head.

"The years continue to be kind to you," Ancient Strange said with a dry smile.

"Perhaps I'm something of a freak of nature," I responded with a shrug.

Ancient Strange's lips quirked. "There was a time - back when the Wilder were called 'Mutants', and there was only one man who was Blood - when that was said about all of your kind."

I bowed my head in silent and respectful agreement. Ancient Strange had been there. He had seen the fall of the Folk and the rise of the Blood. With his own eyes, he'd watched the rise of the world that had come from it all.

Ancient Strange gestured towards me with an age-twisted hand. "I see you still wear the necklace of a seeker."

"Yes," I replied.

"And you have the aura of ancient powers about you," Ancient Strange continued. "Some would say that you have been quite successful at your calling. You're not just seeking - you're finding."

I took a moment to consider Ancient Strange's words. Then I nodded in agreement.

"Of late, I've sensed a strange quirk in our reality," Ancient Strange added thoughtfully. "Nothing definite, but it seems to be emanating from north of what used to be called West Point. And I've heard reports from Cyrus here of dark-elves in that region. About the same time, a great power - I can now guess who - initiated a large storm and brought it up the Hudson valley, which is where you just happen to be at the moment. That's quite the set of coincidences. James, do you any information that might clarify all of this?"

I sighed. "The Destroyer has somehow arrived on our world. And a legion of Dark Elves is trying to track it down. Oh... and there's a madman of the lineage of Loki around here somewhere. He seems to be able to control the Destroyer."

The Ancient Once stared at me. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and muttered, "By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth..."

Then his eyes became distant. Cyrus and I fell silent. Ancient Strange was gazing at things that neither of us could see. Quite possibly, they were things that we had no desire to see.

We waited until the light of immediacy came back into the eyes of Ancient Strange.

"This intrusion has been concealed from me," he said worriedly. "The list of entities capable of that is not long."

"Is Malekith on that list?" I asked suddenly.

Ancient Strange nodded.

"Would he actually need to be here on Earth to deceive you like that?" I asked tensely.

Ancient Strange nodded again. Then his eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

That's when I realized that I was smiling.

"There is a lecture I could give you about the futility of revenge," Ancient Strange told me quietly.

"Revenge may be coming," I replied. "In fact, I hope it is. However, it is not the priority. I need your help, oh Ancient One. We cannot let the Destroyer run amok in our world - or become a creature of Malekith. And the dark-elves need to be taught once again that Midgard can be a dangerous place. This must become a catastrophe for them."

Ancient Strange nodded. "I will seek out Odin. And my students will send word to the Scatter."

"There's something else," I said.

"What?"

"I need something that will help me find the Destroyer - and Malekith."

Ancient Strange seemed to consider me for a while. "I believe already have it."

* * *

Back in our reality, Cyrus bowed to me.

"I am sworn to the Captain," he said, "but any aid that I can give you..."

I considered that before speaking. "There are things that the senior Samurai here at the fort feels honor-bound not to tell me. What is the disposition of the Point's forces?"

Cyrus didn't hesitate. "Most of the samurai and other warriors stationed here are trying to hold the frontier between us and the dark-elves. As you can see, a few remain here in the fort since it's an obvious target. Meanwhile, the Captain is putting together his main army to the south of us. He has sent us some reinforcements, but rather than send the bulk of his troops into battle in small packets, his plan is to assemble a host sizable enough that it can directly challenge the main force of dark-elves."

The plan made sense - it was obviously based on a reading of how the early stages of the last war with the dark-elves had gone. It also was not going to work. The Point couldn't take on a full dark-elf legion on its own. The Captain would end up like the lords of Prince and Trent - his samurai scattered and slain and their holdings in ruin. He would just inflict more casualties on the dark-elves.

"Thank you," I told Cyrus. Then we shook hands.

Rahne was waiting for me after I left Cyrus' hut. She'd tracked me there by scent. And she looked worried.

"It's all right," I reassured her.

She nodded, but her eyes were still on the hut behind me. Rahne undoubtedly could sense the peculiarity of it.

"This is a place of magic," I explained to her. "It has been for some time. And the mage inside is actively practicing his art. That's what you're sensing. It is not evil, but it is something that should be treated with respect."

"Oh..." Rahne said hesitantly. "There was something like it back at that shrine to the Lady of Wolves. And with the Destroyer. It was different, but it felt similar."

I nodded.

"Did you accomplish anything here?" Rahne asked nervously. She still didn't like the feel of Cyrus' hut.

"I talked to the world's most powerful mage."

Rahne's eyes went wide. "Ancient Strange? He lives _here_? I thought Nyack was his home."

I smiled and shook my head. "Actually, the man who lives here is a named Cyrus. He helped me speak with Dr. Strange."

"Dr. Strange," Rahne repeated... as if she was unsure what to make of the unfamiliar combination.

"A title Ancient Strange used when he was younger," I informed her.

"What did he say to you?" Rahne asked eagerly.

"I asked his advice on certain matters and he gave it to me. Ancient Strange will lend us what help he can - he is summoning his students and the Scatter who are sworn to him. And he will seek an audience with Odin himself."

"Odin?!" Rahne squeaked - her voice high with surprise. She'd been wisely silent about matters of faith ever since we left Alban, but I knew that a miniature symbol of Mjolnir still hung from her neck.

"The Destroyer is his creation. It supposedly has an important destiny. I assume Odin wants it back."

Rahne looked down at her hands and flexed them. The toes of her bare feet wiggled in the grass. They were the involuntary gestures of a Blood female considering her claws. She was remembering our futile battle against the Destroyer.

It is in the blood and bone of our kind to not like losing.

"Who can defeat the Destroyer?" Rahne asked me.

The answer was 'nobody', but I didn't say that aloud.


	23. Wolverine's World: The Declaration

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE DECLARATION

The debris from Anna and Emma's fight had been swept against the walls of the barracks. Somebody - I suspected Benjamin and Faye - had managed to cobble together some ramshackle bunks from various parts and fragments. At least the next visitors wouldn't have to sleep on the floor.

It suddenly occured to me that I was responsible for settling the damages. After all, my women had caused all of the destruction.

Then I shrugged that off. That was something to worry about if I survived the next few days.

Anna and Emma were back from the healer. The worst of their injuries were gone, but I noticed with some amusement that the healer had left them with most of their considerable collection of bruises, cuts, and other minor injuries.

"Was the healer busy?" I asked.

"He was helping some wounded Folk archers and pioneers," Anna replied with a painful shrug. "He magicked away the worst of our injuries and then he threw us out of his infirmary and told us to go find some dark-elves to fight. Honestly, I feel no ill-will towards him - the man has other responsibilities."

Emma nodded in agreement. I noticed that she was carrying a cloth-wrapped bundle under her arm.

Then Rahne handed me a new staff.

"You just don't look right without one of these," she said with a shy smile. That made sense - after all, the first time we'd met, I'd been carrying my old staff.

The staff was a good length of wood, cut from a young yew tree. The ends had been properly trimmed and the bark carefully stripped off. The height was right for me. If it wasn't a true replacement for the staff I'd lost, perhaps in time it would grow into that role.

Yew was an interesting choice of wood on Rahne's part. It made me wonder if Rahne's true father had been a bowman. While the Blood tend to avoid bows on the battlefield, they're often used for hunting.

"Thank you," I told Rahne.

"This is fine?" Rahne asked anxiously. "I'm not breaking some secret special seeker rule by giving it to you?"

I gave Rahne a long and serious look. "Normally, a seeker's staff comes from an oak split by the lightning of Lady Ororo herself. It's then consecrated with the blood of Folk, Wilder, and Blood maidens. Finally, a Creed is hunted down and beaten to death with it."

Anna rolled her eyes dramatically. Emma just gave me a disgusted look. They were standing behind Rahne so she couldn't see either of them.

Rahne became very still. "Really?" she asked in a slightly horrified voice.

I smiled at her. "No, of course not. This will do fine, Rahne."

Rahne now had the same exasperated look on her face as Anna and Emma. Really, I had to stop teasing her. Perhaps in a decade or two... Or maybe after she married...

"Give me your hand," I told her.

She did that. I used one of my claws to open a cut on the palm of her hand. Then I did the same with mine. Rahne winced, but she didn't flinch away. Then we both held the staff, my hand overlapping hers, as our blood mingled together and stained the wood.

Anna and Emma said nothing, but their eyes were on us.

"We should go now," I said once our blood had stopped flowing.

"Where?" Rahne asked.

"To market," I replied.

"Not quite yet," Emma interrupted quietly. "I need to get ready."

* * *

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

Emma was standing in the middle of the barracks. She was wearing the green, red, and yellow robes of a priestess of the Lady of Fire. Anna was busily orbiting around Emma, a bundle of pins in her hand as she critically examined the fit of the robes. Rahne had just finished threading a pair of needles - one for her and one for Anna. Whoever the robes belonged to was taller than Emma. They were going to make some quick adjustments.

"The local Blade priestess said I could borrow this," Emma explained to me. "A Fire priestess named Saida comes here every few months to deal with questions of judgement and truth. She keeps some personal effects and clothing here."

"And she's apparently a giantess," Anna observed as she pinned up one of Emma's sleeves.

Emma chuckled and nodded her head in agreement.

"She's just over six feet in height," I interjected. "Tall, but not exactly a giant."

"You've met her?" Emma asked curiously.

"It was a few years ago in Rhodes. I was accused of murder and Saida heard the case. Some relatives of a man I killed felt I was in the wrong. Since I was a seeker, and the killing involved the will of the Old One, the local lord deferred judgement to the Temple."

Emma sighed. Anna and Rahne didn't even react as they began applying needle and thread to Emma's borrowed finery.

"And why did you kill him?" Emma asked with a raised eyebrow.

"He had a taste for children and I..." I began.

Emma grimaced. *Stop,* she said in my mind. *I can guess the rest of the story.*

I let it drop. The will of the Old One is very clear in such cases. Brutally clear. The family just didn't want to accept the truth until Saida told them to believe me.

Then Emma frowned and gave me a sharp look. *Wait... did Saida kiss you?*

The problem with mind-to-mind communication is that it can leak details you'd rather keep private. Especially when one side of the exchange is a much more skilled mentalist than the other.

*Right after the trial,* I admitted. *Everyone left the temple, but she asked me to stay behind.*

There was the ghost of a delighted smile on Emma's face. Through our mental link I caught the impression that Emma considered Saida to be a formal, stern, and matriarchal figure. Someone you respected, rather than befriended.

*That wasn't very dignified on her part,* Emma thought in obvious amusement.

I shrugged. *She said her job was to deliver justice. And I deserved more than a miserable fews hours in front of her and some mistakenly outraged relatives, answering angry questions.*

Emma's smile was now in full bloom. *And here I always thought Saida was a bit on the stuffy side.*

*In her role as a priestess for the Lady of Fire, and mine as a shaman of the Old One, a stolen kiss is perhaps an act of respect to those we serve.*

Emma raised an eyebrow at me. *So that's what we've been doing all this time? Praying?*

*I've always found our time together to be akin to a religious experience.*

Emma's smile broadened. *My, that's polished bit of flattery from such a rough character.*

* * *

Anna decided not to accompany us.

"This next part is about you and Emma," she told me. She didn't seem to be jealous or upset. She just knew she didn't have a place in what was coming.

I nodded in agreement and took her in my arms. Anna leaned into me, her arms around my waist. Her tail affectionately wrapped itself around my right fore-arm. A long and peaceful moment passed. Anna and I always seemed to be either squabbling or screwing. Quiet moments like that were precious because they were so rare.

"Does Rahne know what it means now that you've mingled blood?" Anna asked me softly.

"No," I replied just as quietly.

"That's not like you at all, Jimmy. You should tell her."

I sighed. "I'm not trying to trick her. I just created an option. If anyone tries to claim her, or use either the law or the traditions to interfere with her freedom in any way, we now have something to fall back upon."

Anna hugged me tight. "Okay," she said. "I can see that."

* * *

Two miles south of the fort there is a small crossroads trading village. It was the sort of place that always appears near a military post. It had a pair of taverns, a brothel, a small store, a stable, and about two dozen houses, huts, and hovels. It also featured a small market square.

The sun was about to set and there was the usual rush in the marketplace to take care of last minute business. So there were more people in the market than you might expect.

Standing in the center of the square, I leaned against my new staff and nodded in Rahne's direction.

In what had once been the kitchen of the barracks, we'd found a rusty serving spoon and an old iron pot that had a hole worn into its bottom. Rahne began enthusiastically banging on the pot with the spoon.

The racket was considerable. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at us. Within seconds, we had the complete attention of the forty-or-so people in the marketplace.

I signaled for Rahne to stop. She did - with a certain regret, I think.

Indulging in a bit of theatrics, Emma removed her outer robe and handed it to Rahne. The garb of a priestess of Lady Fire was revealed. Rahne took the robe, bowed to Emma, and backed away.

Then Emma stood next to me and took my free hand in hers. Emma's presence was a silent confirmation by the Lady of Fire of what I would say.

And... dear Old One... dressed in formal robes and regally considering the crowd, she was so beautiful.

I paused for a long and meaningful moment, letting everyone get a look at us before I began to speak.

"Who knows me?" I called.

There was a moment of silence. Then a dignified-looking Blood female with a silvery streak of white-gray in her otherwise coal-black hair finally responded.

"You are James," she began slowly, "and you are a seeker after the will of the Old One. I first saw you perhaps seventy years ago, while I was travelling in the company of my father and mother. It was in Bost. You were fighting alongside the Temple of Blades in their ancient struggle against the Hand."

I nodded. It is almost impossible to kill a death cult, and the priestesses of the Lady of Blades - calling upon the Elektra avatar of the Lady of Blades - remain eternally on watch for the Hand. I lend aid when I can.

But the Blood matron wasn't done with me. "Since then, you've been up and down the Huds many times. You're always wandering. Always in a fight or about to get in one. And you never seem to change."

It occurred to me that the Blood matron's words were perhaps too accurate.

There was a moment of silence, and then an older Folk female spoke up.

"When I was a little girl, there was a Howler haunting the holdings west of here. You spoke to the Howler and made him agree to leave the lands of Lord Shea. There was a celebration afterwards and you got so drunk that you gave the children rides on your shoulders - that include my brother and I. That was five decades and some years ago."

The werewolf in question had wisely avoided others, so he'd killed nobody. However, when the hunting was bad, he would take cattle or sheep - and it's a rare farmer who won't fight to protect his livestock. The inevitable confrontation would have resulted in needless deaths.

I tracked down the Howler and we shared a bottle around a campfire. He heard me out and agreed to move further north, away from Lord Shea's lands. I've heard nothing of him since, but he struck me as a decent sort and I hope he's found as much peace as is possible for his kind.

"I know you," a Blood holder added distractedly - his eyes seemingly far away. "Just over thirty years ago, you were with the Coastal Alliance during that great outbreak of Creed piracy. My son served with the Alliance and you fought together at the battle of Cape Fear. He died in battle and we met at the rites for those who were lost."

Regretfully, I didn't remember the Blood who'd just spoken, but I respectfully bowed my head toward him. Cape Fear was where the Alliance destroyed the Creed fleet. The battle was a hell of grappled ships, flames, bloody claw-point battle, and hungry sharks. At the rites for the dead, there were far too many grieving families left with nothing to bury. The sea is jealous and allows few to leave her last embrace.

"You're the seeker with an elvish wife," a Folk travelling merchant said suddenly. "They tell stories about you two. A few days ago, I saw you at the Point. You left after they found the body of that ogre. The samurai said you were probably looking for invaders from the other realms."

I nodded.

My identity was established and it was time to proceed.

"Those who spoke are correct," I announced. "I do seek the Old One's will. And I have found it."

There was a restless stir from the crowd.

"The rumors and tales are true," I continued. "The dark-elves have returned. They seek a great power and have killed samurai, ronin, and innocent travellers alike. The forces of the Point have encountered them and lives have been lost. They are to the north of here. A dark-elf encampment is less than fifteen miles away."

The crowd again stirred uneasily - the memory of the last time Svartalfheim came to Midgard is burned deep into our souls.

"Is it Malekith?" a frightened voice came from the middle of the crowd. Whoever spoke was simply saying aloud what everyone was thinking.

"Yes," I answered.

Then I paused and let my eyes sweep over the assembled Blood, Folk, and Wilder. They were now silent as they stared at me. Even babes in the arms of their mothers were quiet. The name of the dark-elf king has that effect.

"I call the Blood to war," I continued softly - there are times when there is no need to shout. "Carry the word wherever you go. The Blood are to rise as one and destroy our foe. No lord is to let pride, avarice, or calculation intrude. No holder is to concern himself with crops, livestock, and other affairs. No vassal should heed words from his holder or lord to ignore our common enemy. Indeed, there are no lords. There are no holders. There are no samurai or ronin."

All of those eyes were still locked on Emma and I.

"Now there is only Blood. And we must fight."

"Such is the will of the Old One."

My eye caught the holder who had lost a son at Cape Fear. I could see hatred and grief twisting his face. I'd also called for the war that finally ended at Cape Fear.

For a moment, I wondered how many children he had left. And how many he would have to give to this war.

The crowd was still dead silent as we walked away.


	24. Wolverine's World: The Three Lords

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE THREE LORDS

I had a plan, but for the moment I had to stay at the fort. There was more to summoning the Blood to war than just making the call. I had to make sure that it at least began effectively. I needed to have the right people in place. People who understood their role in what was coming.

Lord Shea was a tall and lean Blood with pure white hair. His holdings bordered those of the Point, but relations between Shea and the Captain were relatively cordial. He and I had known one another for a long time - since long before I convinced the Howler to leave his holdings. In fact, I knew him back when he was just another wandering ronin, looking for nothing more than his next fight, next meal, and next woman.

He tracked me down within hours after I made my declaration in the marketplace. By then, night had fallen. He found me sitting on the front porch of the old barracks.

"What the fuck, James?" Shea snarled at me.

Actually, he seemed more exasperated than angry.

Blood warriors were already converging on the fort. Some ronin arrived in formation, but the Blood militia was appearing without any semblance of organization. They traveled as individuals, bands, and families.

The biggest contingents would consist of lords and their vassals. Shea was the first of those to appear.

The samurai of the fort were trying to get the new arrivals organized, but that wasn't going to be easy. The Fort's scouts were reporting that some particularly determined self-organized war-bands were already moving north. I hoped they would be smart enough to only engage dark-elf scouts and patrols and not seek out large enemy formations and camps. It would be even better if they joined the thin line of Point samurai who were trying to control the frontier. However, that was up to the individual band. When a seeker invokes the Old One's name and calls for war, the results are not neat and controllable. I knew that when I gave the call.

But no matter what, things were about to become bloodier and more difficult for the dark-elves.

"I'm glad you're here, Shea," I said - and I meant that.

Shea lifted his hands helplessly. "Dammit, James, I'm here because most of my people are here! When they heard the Old One's call, my vassals dropped whatever they were doing and just left. My samurai asked for my forgiveness and begged that I lead them here. What choice did I have?! So now my holdings are guarded by children and the elderly. A raid by a half-dozen Creed would be a disaster."

I shook my head. "Your people heed the Old One's ways, Shea. That's nothing to ashamed of. And if the dark-elves ever get to your holdings, you'll definitely see carnage. This way, we have a chance to stop them in their tracks."

Shea gave me a hard and angry look. "We're the first to arrive. My people will take casualities. A lot of casualties."

That was most likely true. And there was little that could be done about it.

"Shea... lead your people," I said quietly. "Gather your vassals around your samurai. Find ronin who are looking for guidance. Create a formation that can fight, survive, and do honor to the Old One. I've seen you do it before. Do it again."

Shea's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I will, but I just wanted to take a moment to tell you to go to weaponex."

I smiled at that. "I'll save you a place in the operating table next to mine," I replied.

Shea shook his head and stalked off. He was yelling orders to his samurai before he was a dozen steps away.

"Well?" he called back to me. "Get your ancient ass over here and say the words to my people!"

* * *

Lord Shea's force consisted of two dozen samurai, another dozen ronin he'd apparently picked up on the road, one- or two-hundred militia Blood of both genders and all ages, maybe two dozen Wilder, and perhaps another fifty able-bodied Folk archers.

They were standing in a rough semi-circle, just inside the front gate, their eyes glittering in the moonlight as they waited for me.

Shea stepped to the side and nodded in my direction. Everyone was silent as they stared at me.

"The Old One is gone, but his spirit remains..." I called, not bothering to raise my voice. There was no need.

"We remember the Old One," came the inevitable rolling thunder of a response. It wasn't just Shea's people who responded. Members of the garrison and some local civilians who happened to be within earshot also repeated the ancient reply.

"...and he is with us," I finished.

The answering growl seemed to rumble the earth.

As I walked away, I swear could I see tears in Shea's eyes.

* * *

"When this is over, I'm going to kill you," the young lord told me. His voice was like ice and there was little doubt that he meant what he'd just said.

It was around midnight. Another band of samurai and lesser warriors had entered the fort.

"Who are you?" I asked curiously. I didn't recognize him. He was a wiry Blood of average height, clad in some light-chain armor that looked like it had seen more than a few fights.

It also seemed to me that there was an ominous aura of viciousness about him. Or maybe I was just reacting to his threat on my life.

The young lord paused, his eyes hot and angry. He'd just killed his way into a lordship, but he obviously hadn't learned the finer points of the position. And now he'd been given an unavoidable call to war that might very well destroy everything he'd accomplished. Actually, I could see the reason for his frustration. But I just didn't care.

"My name is Daken," he spat out. "Lord Daken."

Speaking of names with meaning...

I nodded politely. "Tell you what, lord Daken, if we're both alive when this is over, you'll have your chance at me. However, you might have to get in line - a lot of people are unhappy with me right now. In the meantime, go lead your samurai and your people. You say you're a lord, so start acting like one."

Rage flaring in his eyes, Daken took a dangerous step towards me. In my mind, I'd already mapped out his death - Daken's fighting style was almost certainly very direct and dependent on his obvious raw speed and savagery. Killing him would be regrettable. While I'd probably be doing his people a favor in the long run, at the moment we needed him to be in charge of his samurai. Otherwise, they would start in-fighting over ascendancy. If I killed Daken, I might even have to become a lord for a while. And I just didn't have the time for that.

Perhaps I could put Anna in charge and have her give orders in my name?

"My... he's a pretty one," Anna said from behind me. I suppose she was right - Daken was a handsome young Blood.

"But a little hot-headed," Emma responded critically.

Daken froze, his eyes looking past me. The expression on his face was still hard, but now he also seemed more than a little puzzled. He wasn't used to being addressed in that way.

Making sure I didn't lose track of Daken, I stole a quick glance over my shoulder. Anna, Emma, and Rahne were at my back, standing just inside the door to the barracks. Daken had caught their attention - the poor wretch.

The expression on Anna's face was contemptuous - she has a problem with self-import lords. Emma just looked amused. Rahne had a tiny and pleasant smile on her lips that worried me. I knew what she what she was capable of.

"New lords are always so touchy," Anna added thoughtfully.

"I think it's all the time they spend posturing, scheming, and fighting," Emma suggested.

"They do seem to be a little pent up," Anna suggested. "Why, they probably don't even have time to find a willing bed-partner! Do you suppose that's the reason they're such a bunch of assholes?"

"Perhaps," Emma replied.

Anna nodded slowly as she dismissively examined lord Daken.

"Okay, here's the deal, kid," she finally told him. "My husband is a busy man and doesn't have time for your juvenile idiocy. Get the fuck out of here or Emma, Rahne, and I are going to kick you completely around the perimeter of this damned fort and leave you a bloody, sobbing, mess right in front of the gate. Then I'll write a song about what we did to you and make sure it becomes common fare in every tavern and inn from Novscot to Kwest. You'll lose your lordship and never get another one. And you'll be a laughing stock for the rest of your life."

The transition of facial expressions - from angry, to shocked, to amazed, to curious - that flickered across Daken's face were truly a sight to see.

"Your wives?" he asked me. For the first time, he didn't seem angry.

"The blue one's my wife," I answered. "The Fire Priestess is my concubine. The young one is dear to me, but not in that way. Oh, and this a fair warning, they can actually do that to you."

Daken nodded slowly at me. "I withdraw my threat. There's nothing that I can do to you that's worse than leaving you in the clutches of these harpys."

Then Daken turned on his heel and stalked away.

"Hey! I'll have you know that James here is a deliriously happy man!" Anna shouted after him in outrage.

"Actually, that was a pretty good comeback on his part," Emma told me appreciatively.

"We've done things to him that a virgin like you couldn't even begin to understand!" Anna yelled.

Lord Daken froze for a moment. I could see his shoulders tremble in anger, but then he took a deep breath and continued back to his people.

That was smart. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

"Nice shot," Emma complimented Anna.

Rahne was still staring at the space between lord Daken's shoulder-blades. And she still had that predatory half-smile on her face.

"If I kill him," she asked me, "would that make me a lord?"

I made a mental note to keep Rahne and Daken far away from each other.

* * *

"Fuck you, James," Lord Dugan told me tiredly.

It was just an hour or so until dawn. The fort was packed with warriors and more were setting up camp outside.

"I've been getting that a lot lately," I replied. "Let me guess. My call to war is a terrible inconvenience for you?"

Dugan was tall, bulky, and a red-head. He was one of the strongest Blood I knew - and a lot faster than most suspected. Those who opposed him usually discovered that far too late. Long ago, he and I had tried to kill each other. It didn't take with either one of us.

"I really wanted to just spend the rest of my lordship indulging in good whiskey and loose women," Dugan told me with a regretful shake of his head.

"Not a bad aspiration," I admitted, "but what happens when you get too fat to fight and a younger Blood decides he wants to be lord?"

"Then I die," Dugan shrugged.

"So perhaps I'm saving your life by forcing you to do something important?"

"We all die," Dugan pointed out reasonably.

Which was true, but some die easier than others.

"Where do you need me, James?" Dugan continued.

"Find Shea and start organizing this mess," I suggested. "The fort's senior samurai is competent, but he's used to dealing with professionals, not militia. He needs help. When the Captain shows up with the rest of the Point's warriors, advise and support him."

Duggan nodded, casually accepting the responsibility.

"Oh..." I continued. "A young lord named Daken is here."

The stormy look that appeared on Dugan's face informed the he knew Daken.

"Just point him at the enemy and let him loose," I said.

Dugan smiled in response.

It was like a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The two men I'd needed - and perhaps the third - were present. I could pursue other goals. There was something I had to take care of.

"I hear Anna is with you," Dugan said conversationally. There was some careful caution in his words.

"Yes."

"And how's that going? As I recall, the last time we spoke, you swore you were done with sticking your dick into that particular example of crazy."

I considered Dugan's words for a while. I was sure I hadn't phrased it that way he remembered, but his words did have a certain resonance with me.

"I like having her with me," was all I could think to say.

Dugan smiled broadly. "Of course you do! You're in love, you damn fool."

I shook my head. "Don't be ridiculous, Dugan. I'm too old for that."

"You're never too old for love, my friend! Look at me - I have three wives, seven concubines, and a pretty girlfriend on the side. I fall in love all the time."

I tried for visualize dealing with that many Annas and Emmas. I think I shuddered.

"I need you to say the words to my people," Dugan asked.

I nodded and got to my feet. It was the fifth time that night.

"So now that you've given me and Shea a job, what do you plan to do?" Dugan asked as we walked towards his expectant people.

"I'll be leaving at sunrise," I told him. "There's someone I have to kill."

Dugan nodded placidly.


	25. Wolverine's World: The Signs

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE SIGNS

Just before sunrise, I explained my plan to Anna and Emma.

Anna and Emma carefully considered what I'd said and responded with respectful courtesy. Emma, of course, properly deferred to Anna's status as my wife and remained demurely silent as Anna brought their concerns to my attention.

"Oh, beloved and honored husband," Anna said - worry etched in her caring eyes, "although your plan has risks, it is also sound and well-considered. We do not agree with all of its elements, but we defer to your wisdom. We will do everything in our power to support your endeavor."

Obviously, that's not what happened.

"There is no fucking way you're doing that!" Anna snarled at me.

"James, sometimes you can be such a damned fool!" Emma snorted.

That was one of the reasons I'd taken a break from relationships for last century or so.

* * *

Rahne rubbed sleep from her eyes and then performed a jaw-breakingly wide yawn. The shouting had woken her.

"What are you fighting about?" she asked plainitively as she rolled out of her bunk. All she was wearing was a shirt she'd borrowed from Anna. It was much too small for her.

"James is being an idiot again," Emma responded helpfully.

"He wants to track down Laufey and kill him," Anna contributed.

Rahne pushed a tangle for red-hair away from her eyes and then contemplatively scratched one of her breasts. "That doesn't seem like a bad idea - except for the little problem of the Destroyer."

"And he wants to do it on his own. We're all supposed to stay behind," Emma continued as she balefully glared at me.

Rahne looked at me and snorted. "No. I barely managed to save you during our last fight with the Destroyer."

I stared at Rahne. "That's how you remember that? I could have sworn it was Olivia who saved the two of us."

Rahne shrugged that off. "Let's not argue. The Destroyer almost killed us both. What happens when you run into it alone? Why do you think that this time you'll..."

Then Rahne paused and seemed to consider the matter further. "Oh. I see. You don't plan on fighting the Destroyer. You intend to sneak up on Laufey and kill him. You're hoping that will make the Destroyer shut down again."

I nodded.

"I'm as good at stealth as you are," Rahne mused - which wasn't quite true. She was actually better than me. Really, was she trying to spare my feelings?

"Anna's okay, but not as good as we are," Rahne went on thoughtfully. "Emma's hopeless. We might as well drag an ox around with us."

Emma bristled. Anna put a hand on her shoulder to calm her down. Amazingly, that didn't start a fight. Apparently the truce between them was the real thing.

"So I see your point about leaving them behind," Rahne concluded, "but I should still go with you. We can hit Laufey from two sides."

Anna and Emma gave each other a concerned look. This part of the conversation wasn't going as they'd expected.

"Rahne's right, Emma is like an elephant in the woods," Anna interjected hurriedly. Emma rolled her eyes, but didn't argue. That was her way of agreeing with something she didn't like, but was true.

"But we're still going along," Anna finished. "We'll stick with you until we get close to Laufey. Then we'll hang well back and give you support as needed. Emma can track you telepathically, I'll be able to pull you out if it all goes wrong."

Emma saw the look in my eyes. "Anna and I won't be alone," she added quickly. "We'll bring help."

"You're worrying too much about us," Anna told me. "That means you're not thinking clearly. You need help with this, Jimmy. Admit it."

I took a long moment to consider the words of my women.

They were aggravatingly true.

"Once we find Laufey, you'll stay well back," I said finally. "At Anna's extreme teleportation range."

Then I glared at Anna. "And you give me your word on this - if you have to pull us out, you take Rahne first."

Rahne opened her mouth to object. I reached over and put a hand over her mouth. She subsided.

Anna was hesitating, "Jimmy, the situation might..."

"Your word, wife," I said flatly.

"He's so DAMNED old fashioned..." Anna fumed to Emma. Emma just smiled at me and shrugged.

Then Anna took a deep breath, crossed her arms in front of her chest, and bowed. "It will be as you will, my honored love and lord."

"You should talk like that more often," I suggested approvingly.

"Kiss my ass, Jimmy."

"Why? You prefer it when I bite."

* * *

"How will we find Laufey?" Rahne asked curiously.

"We need a sign," I said.

We left the fort and climbed a nearby hill. The others were still within the fort, waiting for us.

Rahne looked at me expectantly. The hill was small, wind-swept, and mostly consisted of bare rock. However, it had a good view of the fort, the river, and the surrounding area.

I sat down, crossing my legs underneath me. Then I put my staff on the ground in front of me.

"Sit with me," I told Rahne.

Obviously surprised, Rahne did so.

"That hammer symbol you wear around you neck - take it out and hold it," I ordered.

Rahne hesitantly did as I'd told her, kissing the symbol before gripping it with both hands. Her Mjolnir pendant wasn't a secret, but she usually refrained from displaying it around Emma and I.

"Close your eyes," I told her. "Breath deep, but slow. Then empty your mind and forget the concerns of the everyday. Know the scent of the earth around us and listen to the wind. Eventually, when you're ready, your eyes will open. Just let it happen. And if you see nothing, you haven't failed. It simply isn't time."

Time passed. There was the movement of water, the call of birds, and the raucous back-and-forth of half-understandable shouts and words from the fort and the surrounding camp. The scent of the woods alternated with that of unwashed bodies. I heard the bass roar of Dugan's voice as he berated a pair of young hot-heads who had been about to fight a duel.

As near as I could tell, Rahne and I opened our eyes simultaneously.

"Nothing..." Rahne whispered, obviously disappointed.

"Look closer," I said as I got to my feet.

Puzzled, Rahne scanned the scene below us. Then she gasped.

A tiny figure was slowly, painfully, making her way out of the woods. She was using a broken tree-branch for a staff. It seemed to be the only thing keeping her on her feet.

It was Ingrid - Laufey's sister.

* * *

Ingrid was kneeling on the ground, adjacent to the dirt road that led to the front gate of the fort. Her wrists were bound behind her. She became difficult when we approached her, and that made it necessary to take her captive.

Ingrid didn't look good. She'd been beaten and her clothes were torn. Rahne and I hadn't done that to her.

There was a steady traffic of people going in and out of the fort's gate. They gazed at us curiously, but otherwise kept their distance. My status as a seeker was part of that, but actually the rule of Blood tradition was simple in such situations. Ingrid was our prisoner. Nobody else would interfere unless they wanted a fight.

Anna and Emma came out of the gate and joined us. Emma was still dressed as a Fire priestess. I presumed her role as a Folk servant was now a thing of the past.

"We've never met," Emma told Ingrid. "But I have seen you at a distance."

Ingrid was too tired and hurt to glare, but there was still defiance in her blue eyes as she looked up at Emma.

"I am told that your brother murdered your father," Emma went on implacably. "Tell us the location of your brother. He won't die because we seek justice for your father, but he will die. I imagine your father's shade will not care about the details."

Ingrid said nothing.

Emma sighed and reached out to Ingrid. Ingrid flinched away, but Emma managed to snag a lock of Ingrid's long, blonde, hair. Then Emma reeled it around in her fingers until she had a solid grip on a mass of hair. Using that to hold Ingrid in place, she put her other hand on Ingrid's forehead.

"This will go easier for you if you do not fight," Emma said. Her voice was neither angry nor threatening. She was simply speaking the truth.

Ingrid spat at Emma.

The expression on Emma's face didn't change as Ingrid suddenly collapsed and began to convulse helplessly.

Rahne was standing very close to me, her arms crossed over her body, with her hands on her opposite shoulders. This was new to her, and it was an ugly thing to see. Anna watched expressionlessly. She didn't like that sort of thing, but she understood the neccesity.

Emma stared out into the distance as Ingrid lay in the dirt and choked and kicked. There was something terribly bleak in Emma's eyes.

"I know where Laufey is," Emma told me.

* * *

Emma described to us where Ingrid had last seen her brother.

"A line of hills comes out of the west," Emma told us, her eyes focused elsewhere. "The hills are treed with oaks, with some pines near the hilltops. The hills stop at an escarpment that drops a good fifteen or twenty feet into the river. The stone of the escarpment is gray and black, but there is a thin streak of grey-white running horizontally through the cliff face. Rectangular blocks of stone have broken loose from the cliff and fallen into the river, forming an irregular natural dock. Where the stones meet the water, somebody has driven three man-high wooden piles into the river. The edge of the cliff has been cleared of trees, although there has been some regrowth. There are a pair of crumbling wooden huts up there. The one closest to the cliff doesn't have a roof any longer. The other is in better shape."

Emma took a deep breath and continued. "Laufey has built a circle of rounded river stones between the two huts. The circle is about twelve to fifteen feet in diameter. The perimeter of the circle is composed of hundreds of stones, ranging in size from pebbles to full cobbles. They form a sinuous, braided, pattern. In the center of the circle is a large, flat, slab of the dark stone that makes up the cliff. Laufey must have had the Destroyer move that stone - it weighs tons."

"On the far side of the river, the ground is flat and wooded. There is a sandbar splitting the river near the far shore. It's covered with a thick pile of driftwood from one end to the other. From the side, it reminds me of a hedgehog."

I considered Emma's description.

"Do you know that location?" Anna asked.

I nodded. "Yes, but I don't like that circle Emma described."

Anna nodded in grim agreement.

"What is it?" Rahne asked quietly.

I let out a long sigh. "I'm not sure, but a circle is almost always the basis of ritual magic. And Laufey seems to have some odd talents. The combination is troubling. We should talk to Cyrus about this. Emma can you contact him?"

Emma shook her head. "I tried earlier, but I can't get a lock on him. I think he's deep in a mystical working."

Unfortunately, that made sense. The influx - big and getting bigger - of Blood militia was straining the resources of the Point professionals to the limit in an effort to effectively control and guide the new arrivals. Cyrus was undoubtedly using his talents to coordinate field activities.

I considered our options. Off hand, I could only think of one.

"We'll proceed with the plan. Emma, keep trying to contact Cyrus."

* * *

*There's something we must speak about,* Emma sent to me.

I looked at her. Anna and Rahne were nearby, keeping an eye on Ingrid.

*We should keep Ingrid under guard,* Emma told me.

*Yes*, I agreed. Ingrid was something of a wild-card and it would be a good idea to not have her roaming around until our business with Laufey was done.

*We could leave her in the custody of the fort samurai,* I suggested.

Emma send a mental signal of disagreement. *It would be best if Victoria - the Blade priestess - kept her instead.*

So now I finally knew the name of the Blade Priestess. And there was something about Emma's demeanor. I suddenly became worried.

*Emma, what aren't you telling me?* I asked carefully.

Emma gave me a very direct look. *Ingrid presents a problem. And the Temple will have to make a decision concerning her.*

Emma had phrased that very finely and with a clear implication. Ingrid was not in my purview and I should defer the matter to Emma, Olivia, and Victoria.

*How so?* I asked.

*Ingrid may be with child. Laufey would be the father.*

I didn't respond.

*You aren't surprised?* Emma asked me.

*I could smell Laufey on Ingrid when Rahne and I captured her,* I replied shortly. *I take it this is somehow even worse than I thought?*

*There was a ritual,* Emma answered tiredly. *I saw it in Ingrid's mind. Laufey called on powers that were old when Odin was young. Then he violated his sister within his circle of stones. He told Ingrid that their child would eventually rule a kingdom of horror and pain.*

The prospect of killing Laufey had never been a difficult one for me. It certainly seemed strategically necessary. But it was increasingly becoming a matter of moral and metaphysical hygiene. In between patricide, incest, trafficking with elder gods, and trying to create abominations from his own flesh and blood, he was a walking, talking, and breathing violation of mortal existence. We had to cleanse the Earth of that man.

*Afterwards, Ingrid somehow escaped,* Emma finished. *She was trying to get as far away from her brother as possible when you captured her.*

*Are you sure she's pregant?* I heard myself ask Emma. I was becoming distant from myself. That was always a bad sign.

Emma sighed, *It's too early for me to tell with certainty, but Ingrid believes she is.*

I let out a long breath. If Ingrid was carrying a child, it would be the issue of two children of Loki, conceived in rape and incest during an unknown ritual, at the behest of unnamable powers.

I looked over towards Ingrid. She was kneeling again, her head hanging in exhaustion and pain. Anna and Rahne were standing nearby, chatting about something while idly keeping an eye on Ingrid.

Ingrid wasn't exactly innocent, but she certainly hadn't asked for what had happened to her.

But the thing she might be carrying... that was a problem.

It would be easy to end it quickly. A blow to the base of Ingrid's skull to incapacitate her, then I would pull her to her feet and slit her throat. After that, a simple thrust into her lower abdomen and a quick yank upwards would shred whatever she was carrying in her womb. It would be a quick and relatively painless death.

Emma took my hands in hers, her fingers interlocked with mine. That was an old, old gesture filled of meaning. There was no way I could extend my claws without seriously injuring her. It is how a Blood female tells a Blood male to stop and think.

Meeting Emma's eyes, I looked deep into them. There was a hint of red behind the blue. It seemed as if something predatory was gazing back at me. However, it was quiescent. Merely watching and waiting. There was no need for action.

I looked away quickly.

I accepted that as another sign, although it obviously wasn't from the Old One.

Smiling at Emma, I kissed the backs of her hands. "You're right. This is best decided by the Temple," I told her.


	26. Wolverine's World: The Godmother

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE GODMOTHER

We were about to leave when Olivia approached us. She was back in armor - although now it was a ranger's leather hauberk and trews, not the expensive steel splint that her station normally required. And she didn't have her winged helm. Like my old staff, it had been lost against the Destroyer. Now she wore a common wood-runner's leather hood.

Of course, Olivia was carrying her hammer-headed polearm. It was so much a part of her that I had a hard time visualizing her without it. She also had a light pack on her shoulders.

Emma and Olivia exchanged a smile. The pall that had come over Emma ever since she'd read Ingrid's mind seemed to momentarily lift.

Then Emma looked at me. "You won't be upset if I greet an old friend properly?" she asked.

I smiled and shook my head.

Emma and Olivia exchanged a heartfelt kiss. Anna's eyebrows rose. Rahne seemed surprised.

The kiss broke and Emma stepped back. Courtesy demanded that Olivia exchange words with me.

"I never did get around to thanking you for saving my life," Olivia said to me.

I politely bowed my head. "No thanks are required, Olivia. Besides, you saved Rahne and I. So we simply exchanged favors."

A smile lit up Olivia's scarred snub of a face as she nodded towards Anna and Emma. "I'm sorry I missed the show when you three made your formal declarations. I was with the healer at the time and he wouldn't let me go - the bastard. I think I should warn you that Emma can be a handful. I hope you know what you're getting into."

Emma snorted, but I noticed she didn't put up an argument.

Anna just looked thoughtful as she nodded in agreement.

I shrugged helplessly. "Olivia, when it comes to something like this, who really knows what they're getting into?"

"I concede your point," Olivia replied gracefully.

"Where are you going, Olivia?" I asked. "You're equipped for travel."

Olivia's smile turned into a grin. "Actually, I'm going with you. I'll be Anna and Emma's bodyguard. I hope you don't mind, but you really don't have any choice."

Not only didn't I mind, that was actually a relief.

* * *

During our time at the fort, the war had seemed oddly distant. Yes, the fort was on a war footing. Yes, patrols left the fort. Yes, skirmishes occurred and both Midgardians and Svartalfheimers were dying. Yes, wounded Folk and Wilder warriors limped - or were carried - back to the fort in hope of being healed. Yes, the children of the Fort's samurai sang for the dead.

Yet the war somehow didn't seem immediate.

Almost as soon as we began moving north, that changed.

A small war-band of about eight Blood younglings, not willing to wait for orders or direction, loped past us at a slow run. They were heading north and clearly looking for a fight. The oldest was perhaps sixteen.

We encountered a Blood samurai who was staggering back to the fort. He was carrying a badly mauled female Folk archer. The Blood clutched her close as he sobbed over and over again, "Don't die. Don't die."

The archer was already dead.

At the last crossroads, just before the river-road turned into a trail, ten stakes had been pounded into the ground. Each of them was topped with the head of a dark-elf. Their faces were contorted from the last moments of their lives, and their jaws hung open in silent howls.

Two Point rangers, bows in hand, tailed us after we left the road. They eventually broke contact with us. I don't think they realized that Rahne and I had spotted them.

A sizable battle between a dark-elf reconnaissance force and a band of independent Blood militia had taken place only two miles north of the fort, along the bank of the Huds. It hadn't been an organized fight with lines and formations. Instead, it was a running cascade of a fight, consisting of multiple small clashes, ambushes, and pursuits. Dozens of bodies littered the forest floor - scattered for hundreds of yards along the river bank. More bodies were floating down-river. If I had be make a guess, more had died in the battle than had walked away from it.

"Behold my works," I told Rahne. She didn't have anything to say.

* * *

We were staying close to the river, never more than ten or twenty yards from the water. By mid-afternoon, I estimated we were another half-day of travel from Laufey's hideout.

"It sounds like he's not that far from that dark-elf camp - the one where Benjamin and Faye were held prisoner," Anna told me. She looked worried.

"You're right," I said.

Anna frowned, "How the hell are the dark-elves missing him.?"

"I think Laufey's circle of stones has something to do with that."

"Why is Laufey sticking around? Why isn't he leaving the valley as quickly as possible?"

I considered that for a few moments before speaking. "There's bloodshed here. And there will be more. Much more. A great deal of power is bound up in death."

Anna made a face. "It sounds more-and-more like Laufey is a mage."

I nodded. "I don't think he's formally trained. Rather, it's in his blood. Some of the Asgardian-descended can call upon their ancestors to learn magics. Or be granted strange boons of power."

Anna sighed. "And Laufey's ancestor is Loki, lord of lies, illusions - and magic. That's not good."

She was right.

* * *

We were moving slowly and carefully. With Rahne and I keeping an eye out for trouble, we avoided a dark-elf patrol. And then another one.

Emma contacted me.

*There's a lot of them,* she 'said'.

*Yes, have you noticed that the patrols are now configured differently than before?*

*There are more elves in each patrol,* Emma agreed. *And they have fewer scouts and more warriors - so they're easier to spot and avoid.*

*It's no longer safe for them to send out just their scouts,* I responded. *The Blood militia is a growing threat.*

* * *

Emma still couldn't contact Cyrus. And I still wanted details about Laufey that only someone with mystical senses could provide.

As evening approached, I came to a conclusion.

Taking a opportunity to drift off to the side of the others, I removed my necklace of claws and teeth. Then I used two particularly long and thin teeth to puncture the long vein in my forearm.

The teeth seemed to draw in my blood. I allowed that to happen until I became slightly dizzy. Then I removed the teeth from my arm and replaced the necklace around my neck.

After that, I drained my canteen - the water would help my body regenerate the lost blood.

I'd made the call, now all I could do was hope that she would answer.

* * *

By nightfall, we were about an hour from Laufey's location. That also meant were only about two hours from the dark-elf outpost.

We made a fireless camp. Before we settled in, I took Rahne aside and warned her that we might have a visitor that night. "Don't be alarmed," I told her. "I called someone. We need to talk. Just be quiet and let it happen."

Rahne nodded doubtfully - not sure what I was talking about. Then she stretched out on the ground and wrapped a blanket around herself.

I lay on my back, gazing up at the stars. Emma and Anna were on either side of me, sleeping quietly.

It was a cool night, but not really uncomfortable. I watched the stars and waited. After a while, I began to fear that my call had not been heeded.

Then a sudden wave of coldness blew through our small camp.

I carefully got to my feet, trying not to disturbed Anna and Emma. They continued to slumber. Off to the side, Olivia and Rahne were also asleep - although it was likely that Rahne was feigning.

"You rang?" A small figure, about Rahne's size, said from her seat on a nearby log. She wore a cloak of faded yellow, but a shadow seemed to obscure her face.

"Hello, godmother," I said.

"Long time, no see, little Jimmy."

I sat next to her. She took my hand in hers. It was cold, of course.

"You never write, you never call," she teased. "At least, not until you need my help."

"There is some truth in that," I admitted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I'm not mad," she reassured me. "It looks like you have a real mess here."

I nodded.

"So what's the plan? I mean beside engulfing the entire Huds valley in war?"

"There is a man named Laufey," I replied. "He's part-Asgardian, descended from Loki, and is manifesting magical powers. He has control of a powerful Asgardian construct called the Destroyer. It is the Destroyer that the dark-elves are seeking. I plan to kill Laufey and give the Destroyer back to Asgard. Then we'll kill as many dark-elves as possible. That, and the absence of their goal, will eventually make it worth their while to leave. Oh, and if I can isolate and kill Malekith with my own claws, that would be nice."

My godmother looked down and shook her head. There was a flash of white in the darkness as some stray starlight caught her sharp teeth. "You always did think big, Jimmy."

"I try."

"Where do I fit in? Do you want me and my children to fight by your side? I don't think the Blood, Wilder, and Folk would be too interested in that idea."

"I need information of a mystical sort. The local mage is locked up in concerns about the war and I can't get hold of him. I was hoping you could help."

She stirred slightly, obviously interested. "What do you need to know?"

I described Laufey's circle to her. She frowned in concentration as she seemed to devour my words.

"Asgardian magic isn't exactly my speciality," she warned me.

"I know," I admitted, "but if you can come up with anything that would help, I'd appreciate your advice."

"Off hand, I'd say he's using the circle to communicate with great powers. Almost certainly Loki, but maybe one or more of the elder gods as well. That's a bad combination. As a bonus, Laufey's focusing power through the circle to provide useful effects - like the way the dark-elves can't seem to find his camp. But in order to get all of that to work, he had to do something big. A sacrifice of something dear to him. A sacrifice that degraded his soul and insulted the natural order of the universe."

"Would raping his sister be enough?" I asked grimly.

My godmother made a disgusted face. "Yeah. That would do it."

Then she seemed to consider the matter further. "Don't let him get anywhere near the circle when you fight him. And if you can, destroy the circle as quickly as possible. I assume you plan to kill him before he can activate his walking tank?"

I nodded.

"What's the plan if that doesn't work?"

"Do what we can to keep the Destroyer busy, while keeping in mind that Laufey as our main target."

"What if the Destroyer doesn't shut down after you kill Laufey?"

I hesitated before answering. "I have options. One is to use Laufey's circle to call upon Asgard in the Old One's name. Surely they want to regain control of their pet killing machine."

My godmother stared at me. "Do you know how dangerous that would be? To your mind and soul as well as your body?"

I shrugged. "Hopefully, it won't be required."

My godmother just shook her head. "If you have other options, I'd suggest you use them instead."

Then her eyes wandered to my sleeping companions.

"Who are they?" she asked curiously.

"The elf is Anna, she's my wife. The fire priestess is Emma, she's my concubine. The storm priestess is Olivia, she's a brave companion. The youngster is Rahne, she's my heart."

My godmother's grip on my hand increased slightly. Her eyes glittered as she examined me.

"So you're not hiding from life anymore? When did that happen, Jimmy?"

Now it was my turn to hesitate. "Recently. I didn't plan on it."

"You stink of the great spirits, Jimmy. I can make out Logan, Jean, and Ororo. What have they told you?"

I sighed. "The contact with the Old One and the Phoenix was strictly carnal in nature."

My godmother snorted. "Like a pair of horny teenagers..." she muttered mostly to herself.

That was perhaps accurate, but certainly somewhat disrespectful. I ignored my godmother's words and continued on.

"The Lady of Storms actually spoke to me. She said I was missing signs. Signs that would seem to indicate that I should reconsider my life. That I should seek out others and perhaps reconsider my role as a seeker."

My godmother chuckled. "Once upon a time, you were a kick-ass lord, Jimmy. Maybe it's time to go that route again. Or maybe you could just establish a small holding and settle in with your new ladies. Then the three of you could make lots and lots of babies for me to godmother. I'd appreciate that. It's been a while."

"I have duties, godmother. Responsibilities."

Then my godmother actually grinned. Her elongated canines were suddenly brightly obvious. "And you think the world will stop spinning if you aren't there to fulfill them? That's dead wrong, Jimmy. The world finds heroes. They always pop up when needed. There was a time when I thought the world would end if your grandfather wasn't around to do what needed to be done. But after he... after he died, others took his place."

The catch in her voice as she mentioned my grandfather was quite real. And the glimmer of blood tears in her eyes couldn't be hidden even by the shadows that were her shield. She and my grandfather had been great friends and companions.

I suppose it was undignified to hug her, but I couldn't help myself. Yes, she was my godmother, but there was a time - so long ago - when Jubilation had been more like a big sister to me.

"Go save the world, little Jimmy-boy," she told me, her face buried in my shoulder. "And if you live, remember what Ororo told you."

And then I was alone, holding nothing but cold air in my arms.


	27. Wolverine's World: The End of Laufey Sigmundson

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE END OF LAUFEY SIGMUNDSON

The next morning, Rahne waited until the others couldn't overhear us.

"Who was that?" she whispered under her breath. She was referring, of course, to our midnight visitor.

"The queen of the vampires," I answered. "She's my godmother."

Rahne gave me a disgusted look.

"Ho. Ho. Very funny," she growled. Then she stalked away, her back stiff with anger.

Sometimes it seems as if there is little point in telling the truth.

* * *

We were forced to wait as a southward-bound column of dark-elves passed by our hiding place. The core of the column was composed of several hundred dark-elf warriors, but there were also scouts and quite a few other-worldly fighting-beasts. They weren't a search or scouting party. They were going to war.

Once they finally passed, I looked at Emma. In deference to the others, she reported verbally.

"Their officers are worried - they are under increasing pressure," she said. "Resistance is rising everywhere, and the dark-elves are being forced to send out reinforcements to keep us at bay. However, they do seem to feel that the south is their biggest problem. They know the Point is raising an actual army. And the Blood militia on that front has radically increased in size. That's your doing, of course."

I nodded. It all made sense.

"That place Emma saw in Ingrid's mind is only an hour or two away," I said quietly. "When we get close, I'll give the signal and we'll split up. Rahne and I will find Laufey and end him. The rest of you wait behind, but be prepared to support us if anything goes wrong."

The looks Anna, Emma, and Olivia gave me held various levels of agreement, but they all nodded their heads.

"Remember, the goal is to kill Laufey. Not to fight the Destroyer."

Everyone nodded again.

Then Anna spoke up, "One thing bothers me: we really don't know what Laufey is doing. He has the Destroyer. He has his damned circle of stones. And for some reason, he's still in the area. But why? What's he planning?"

I just shook my head. That had been bothering me as well.

"He's making mischief," Olivia said suddenly.

We all looked at Olivia.

"Remember that Laufey is of the blood of Loki," Olivia continued, "To us his actions may sometimes seem incomprehensible, or even insane. And he's probably telling himself that he's seeking power, or discomfiting Asgard, or gaining revenge against a world that's somehow wronged him. He probably has some plan he thinks will do one or more of those things, but he's really just causing chaos. Chaos for us, for the dark-elves, and for Asgard. That people die in the process is not important to him."

We were all silent as we considered what Olivia had said.

"When you get down to it, Laufey is simply honoring Loki," Olivia finished with a shrug. "That will destroy him eventually."

"We should accelerate the process," Emma said dryly.

* * *

Emma had some final, private, questions for me.

*James, I'm worried,* she told me. *What if we kill Laufey and the Destroyer doesn't go dormant? Or what if it does - and then the dark-elves show up and take it from us? We could simply end up giving them what they want.*

*We have a way to call Asgard,* I answered. *They'll want to retrieve the Destroyer.*

Emma's eyes flickered towards Olivia.

*Olivia knows the old ritual,* Emma admitted, *but she might balk at casting it. She would feel it a betrayal of the goddess to call upon Asgard.*

*I know,* I responded, *and I won't ask her to do that. I have something else in mind.*

* * *

Ironically, back when we were on the run from dark-elf pursuit, we were at one point within a quarter-mile of Laufey's camp. Or course, Laufey wasn't there at the time.

The camp was as Emma had described it: two battered log cabins on an escarpment overlooking the Huds. The cabins were falling apart, the once-cleared ground around the cabins was steadily growing back, and the rock-fall at the foot of the cliff formed a natural dock.

Actually, I knew the story of that place. Originally, it had been a trading post. A pair of ronin brothers ran it, but it was never particularly profitable. After a decade or two, the brothers moved on.

Laufey and the Destroyer weren't in sight, but Rahne and I could smell them.

"Laufey's in the better of the two cabins," Rahne whispered.

I nodded. "The Destroyer is around back, hidden in that clump of trees."

*I can't get a psychic lock on Laufey,* Emma admitted via telepathy. *I can't attack or read him.*

I didn't like that. Laufey was demonstrating a lot of odd and inconvenient abilities.

*Do you want us to come up?* Emma asked after a brief pause.

*No, but be ready to have Anna bring in Olivia.*

*Very well.*

I glanced at Rahne. She nodded at me, her blue eyes cold and determined, then she began drifting forward.

I slipped off to the side.

* * *

Rahne and I were ghosts - testing each step, carefully taking and releasing each breath, moving from cover-to-cover in the wooded shadows. The wind was mild, but in our faces. We would catch the scent of anyone in the camp before they caught ours.

Rahne was within ten yards of me, but I could not see, hear, or smell her. Actually, I was quite proud of Rahne. The Old One was so strong in her.

The plan was that I would enter the cabin through the door. Rahne would come in via a shutterless side window. I would have preferred to attack at night - by that point, I had no compunctions about killing Laufey in his sleep - but I was worried about time. We had to settle this as quickly as possible.

I finally arrived at the crude front stoop of the cabin. Putting my hand on the door, I gave it the slightest test. The door moved a bare fraction of an inch. It wasn't barred, although it was possible that a strap or chain was securing the door from the inside and I wasn't at the end of its play. That didn't matter. I planned on hitting the door so hard that it would tear loose from any mounting.

Through the door, I could sense Laufey's position. He was in near right corner of the cabin, less than two yards from where I was standing. He wasn't moving. When Rahne came through the window, she would be about a yard-and-a-half from him.

A squirrel made a brief, interrogative, chitter. That was Rahne, letting me know that she was ready.

I would enter first. Rahne would enter as soon as she heard me move. If all went according to plan, Laufey would be dead within a matter of seconds.

Baring my claws, I slammed my shoulder into the door and it flew open.

* * *

I immediately turned the corner and lunged for Laufey. Rahne was already coming through the window. I wanted Laufey's attention on me so Rahne would have a clear approach.

Laufey was sitting on a wooden stool, with his back against the wall. He didn't react to my entrance.

As I buried my claws into Laufey's upper chest, he did nothing except to stare stupidly at me. Twisting my claws so that they bound in ribs, I pulled him upwards and twisted him around so that his back was presented to Rahne. Rahne came at him from behind and jammed her claws into his lower back, just below his kidneys. Then she yanked upwards, splitting Laufey's back open on either side of his spine.

Blood gouted out of Laufey's body and splattered over us. But it wasn't human blood, it was too dark.

The illusion of Laufey melted away. In his place was a dying dark-elf warrior. In his emptying eyes, I only saw confusion. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why he was dying.

That's the only time I have ever regretted killing a dark-elf.

On the wall where the dark-elf had been sitting, a symbol was roughly scratched into the wall. It was the old runic symbol for "fool".

Laufey's illusion had even deceived our sense of smell. He was good. Very good.

I felt regular trembling under my boots. Something massive was running towards us.

Rahne, blood dripping from her face and claws and soaked into her clothes, was looking at me with eyes that were wide and fearful. She understood that we had been tricked.

"Run," I told her, my voice oddly calm and level. "Go to the circle. Find Laufey."

Then I turned to face what was coming.

* * *

Rahne bolted for the door. She was almost outside when the Destroyer smashed through the back wall. The thick logs didn't even slow it down. Through a storm of flying wooden debris, it lunged for me, it's armored hands reaching eagerly...

Behind me, from out in front of the cabin, there was a rush of displaced air and the stench of brimstone.

Then the Destroyer was on me. I managed to avoid its grasp by dropping to the ground and rolling to the side, but one of it's legs still slammed painfully against me. As I scrambled away, I raked my claws across its huge knee. That was more to keep it's attention than anything else. By then, I had little hope that I could injure the Destroyer.

I think it remembered me. This time, it almost immediately dropped its strange visor and eldritch energies began building up around its head. Then the head began tracking me. I suppose I could have taken that as a mark of respect, but at the time I felt it meant that the remainder of my life would be measured in just a few more seconds.

Then Anna teleported into the room, right behind the Destroyer. Leaping upwards, she jammed a sack over the Destroyer's head.

* * *

I'm serious. Anna put what looked like a grain-bag over the Destroyer's head. Then she immediately turned and dashed out of the gaping hole that used to be the cabin's back wall.

The Destroyer actually froze. Its body language - so strangely human sometimes - indicated confusion. The odd energies focused around its upper body seemed to flux uncertainly and then began dissipating. I don't think anyone had ever used that particular tactic against it before. In whatever passed for the Destroyer's mind, it was trying to assess a strange new situation and come to a conclusion.

Staying in a low crouch, I scrambled around the Destroyer until I was behind it. Then I slammed shoulder-first into the back of its knees. The Destroyer staggered as it finally tore the bag away from its head.

Anna appeared back through what was left in the back wall and leaped at the Destroyer, impacting into its upper body feet-first. Then she bounded away.

In between us, we managed to overbalance the Destroyer. I barely scrambled away before it toppled backwards onto the dirt floor.

In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Olivia. She was standing stock-still in the doorway, with her hammer-staff in her hands. A corona of electricity was playing about her head and shoulders. She had fought the Destroyer before. Olivia knew how this fight would end if she didn't intervene as forcefully as possible.

Anna appeared beside me and yanked me to my feet. Right beside us, the Destroyer ponderously rose from the ground.

There was a despairing look on Olivia's face. And for a split-second I felt guilty for putting her in that situation.

The Destroyer wasn't looking at us, but our intervention had apparently temporarily aborted the build-up of energy required to fire that strange and awesome beam from its blank face.

Dropping to one knee, Olivia raised her polearm high and slammed it butt-first into the ground. Anna and I simultaneously leaped for the window.

An explosion of wind, thunder, and lightning threw us out of the disintegrating cabin.

* * *

Anna and I tumbled away from what was left of the cabin, crashing through a stand of saplings. I grabbed her and used my body as much as possible to shield her from the flying debris of the cabin. I felt a dozen painful impacts as chunks of flying wood slammed into my body.

We hit the ground together. Debris fell all around us. For a stunned moment, we just held one another. Then I held Anna at arm's length, examining her carefully, but quickly. She was cut, scraped, and bruised, but hadn't suffered any major injuries.

"What was the FUCK was that business with the sack?" I snarled. The words just came out of my mouth without any particular volition on my part. I wasn't angry. I was amazed.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do!" Anna protested.

"OW!" I yelled.

Anna was holding a length of jagged, blood-soaked, wood - easily a foot long - that she'd yanked out of my side. I hadn't felt a thing until she pulled it loose.

I gritted my teeth and got to my feet as the injury began to knit together.

Back in what was left of the cabin, Olivia and the Destroyer stood in a cloud of swirling dust and smoke, facing each other.

Olivia was at least a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier - and she hadn't been a small woman before. She was wearing bright plate and chain armor that was flawless and bright. A cloak of black and gold flared behind her. There was a helm on her head that was much like the one she had lost days ago, but there was something alien and bulky about the design. Her hammer pole-arm had also become larger and more massive. White and blue runes glittered along its length.

Above us, the sky - in just a matter of seconds - had turned dark with ominously twisting thunderclouds. Strange formations were visible among constant flickers of lightning. Thunder growled and muttered from above, like words in an elder language that was beyond mortal beings.

Olivia had finally accepted both sides of her family.

The Destroyer leaned forward, its huge hands formed into massive fists. Olivia snarled angrily. Then she and the Destroyer lunged for each other.

Their impact seemed to rock the earth.

* * *

Anna dove for cover. I sprinted - well, limped is more accurate - towards Laufey's stone circle. Rahne was already there, crouched on the far periphery of the circle. She was obviously blankly amazed by the show Olivia and the Destroyer were putting on.

Behind me, Olivia and the Destroyer struggled against each other. All around them was devastation. The cabin they'd been in was demolished ruins - nothing more than the torn fragments of worked logs and a crude stone foundation. They traded blows as electricity and the strange red energy of the Destroyer swirled about them.

I staggered directly into Laufey's stone circle. As I crossed the boundary stones, I felt the whisper and tingle of active mystical energies.

Hopefully, Laufey was within his circle. If not, I had no idea how we would find him.

*Emma!* I called in my mind - hopefully she could spot Laufey psychically. There was no response.

I took a wild chance and ran through the center of the circle, my arms wide and claws extended.

At the last moment, I could sense that Laufey was there. He was invisible, but definitely present. I suppose my approach had startled him. However, I still didn't have a very clear idea of where he was.

Laufey was trying to run when the tips of my right claws caught him. Laufey screamed in surprise, and the rich copper smell of blood filled my nose. Laufey was still invisible, but I'd managed to cut him.

Rahne yelped like an eager young wolf and entered the circle, her eyes savagely focused on the splatter of blood trailing along the rocks and earth. Laufey's illusion flickered. In the momentary glimpse, I could see him. He was still dressed as I first saw him - as a common Folk worker - and he was clutching at his bleeding arm.

Rahne and I couldn't see Laufey clearly, but what we had was more than enough. We knew where he was.

We had him.

Laufey screamed something in a language I didn't recognize.

Off in the ruins of the cabin, the Destroyer tried to break away from Olivia and advance towards us. Olivia didn't allow that, but her response was a two-edged sword. She called down her lightning on the Destroyer. A bright, three pronged bolt fell on the Destroyer and drove him to his knees. The noise was tremendous and the over-pressure threw yet more debris around

In that ferocious maelstrom of furious thunder and brilliant light, we lost Laufey again.

* * *

Rain began to fall. Thick, heavy, droplets that were being whipped by the wind. Hail was probably on the way. The rain was obscuring any blood-trail that Laufey might leave behind.

There was a repetitive blacksmith-shop sound as Olivia pounded on the Destroyer with her polearm. I don't think she was actually hurting it, but it couldn't get to its feet.

Meanwhile, Rahne and I were blinking away the bright splotches that the lighting had left in our vision. Our hearing was also dulled.

I wiped rain away from my face and desperately tried to catch a scent.

Nothing. The stench of electricity filled the air.

*Got him!* Emma - the Old One bless her - suddenly called to us. *To your front and left! Just outside the circle!*

There was nothing there except a tree, but Rahne and I both leaped to attack.

Laufey was fast, a strangely spotted and streaked form seemed to detach itself from the tree and lunge off to the side. His magical camouflage was rippling as it tried to adapt to his changing surroundings.

Rahne dove at him and took a wild slash at Laufey's legs. He squealed as she connected with this calf.

Laufey twisted away as Rahne tumbled to the ground. Then he vanished once again. He seemed to be circling off to the side.

I knew what he was doing. Laufey was trying to get back inside his circle.

* * *

I abandoned the chase and backed into the circle, only stopping when my feet were on the flat block of dark stone that was in its midst. Whatever Laufey had in mind, he would have to enter. And I would be waiting for him.

Rahne began pacing the circle's perimeter, trying to find some sign of Laufey.

The rain grew worse. And the first of the hail began to fall.

The Destroyer was finally back on its feet. It was grappling with Olivia. The two of them strained against each other, frozen like giant statues as the rain ran down their bodies in rivulets. Olivia was holding the Destroyer back, but that wouldn't last. I could tell that she was slowly, inexorably, losing her fight.

*Anything?* I desperately asked Emma.

*No,* she responded bleakly. *Laufey's near you and he's in pain, but he's back under control. That moment of distraction that let me find him has passed.*

*Anything else?* I asked.

*The dark-elves are stirring. They've seen this.*

Damn.

* * *

We were running out of time.

It was possible for Laufey to let his control slip. When he did, he became vulnerable.

"Laufey!" I called out, projecting my voice as best I could above the turbulence of the storm.

There was no response.

With a grunt, Olivia slipped. The Destroyer executed a perfect wrestling maneuver and drove her to the ground with its houlder. Olivia immediately punched upwards, her fist catching the Destroyer in its face. She rocked the creature, but didn't manage to break loose.

The Destroyer now had a massive hand around Olivia's neck.

"Laufey Sigmundson! I've seen your sister!" I yelled.

Still nothing.

Rahne ignored me as she continued to stalk the periphery of the circle. She was looking all about her, listening and sniffing carefully. Rain was dribbling from her hair in small streams. The way she looked and moved... it reminded me of the southern woods-panthers.

"The Temple has Ingrid, Laufey!" I called.

*To your left - at about ten o'clock,* Emma suddenly whispered in my mind.

I did my best not to visibly react. But following Emma's guidance, I could see a faint ripple in the otherwise seamless descent of rain and hail. Small flecks of hail were bouncing off of nothing. Laufey's control had slipped. The illusion that hid him was no longer perfect. And he seemed to be frozen in place, listening to my words.

Can a child of Loki feel shame?

*Let Rahne know,* I sent.

*Done,* Emma responded laconically.

To all appearances, Rahne hadn't seen Laufey. She continued to search. However, as she moved around the circle of stones, her path was taking her closer and closer to Laufey's position.

"The Temple knows she is pregnant!" I continued, trying to keep Laufey's attention on me. "They know she is with your child! And the Temple will deal with them!"

By then, the Destroyer had both hands at Olivia's throat. Olivia was uselessly beating at its arms and shoulders. It was clearly winning their fight. Once the Destroyer was done with Olivia, it would turn on us. We wouldn't survive that.

I spread my arms wide, as if entreating the storm. "There's only one decision the Temple can make, Laufey! She's carrying an abomination. Your abomination!"

The void in the storm wasn't moving. Rahne now was only yards from it.

"They will kill both the mother and her unborn," I continued in a softer, regretful, tone. "They have no choice, Laufey."

To all appearances, Rahne hadn't noticed that slight gap in the rain. By now, it was moving very slightly. I had the impression that Laufey was slowly rocking from side-to-side, as if he were unsure and off-balance.

"Damn you, Laufey, you've given them no choice!" I screamed into the storm.

Rahne exploded into motion.

* * *

It was over so quickly. Rahne moved the purposeful exactness of a dancer. There was a splash of red as she ran past the gap in the storm that was Laufey Sigmundson.

The gout of blood vanished immediately in the rain.

And then Laufey appeared. More blood was pouring from his mouth and body and there was a shocked, disbelieving look on his face. He collapsed to his knees as Rahne rounded on him. One side of his lower torso was neatly sliced open - a long lateral gash just below the ribs that went all the way through to his spine. Bisected organs were bulging out of the wound. It was a killing blow, delivered with quick and neat precision.

Rahne got behind Laufey, twisted his head up with one hand, and opened his throat with the other. By that time, all she was doing was speeding up Laufey's passing.

Over near the cliff, Olivia wasn't moving as the Destroyer continued to strangle the life out of her.

Anna appeared next to Olivia and the Destroyer. She put a hand on the Destroyer's back. Then they both teleported away.

Olivia writhed and convulsed as she began to breathe again.

* * *

Anna and the Destroyer materialized in mid-air, between the circle and the wrecked cabin. She and it crashed to the ground. The Destroyer landed with a dull clang - sounding oddly hollow. It didn't move.

I ran to Anna and pulled her away from the now-motionless Destroyer. Anna wrapped her arms around me. She was shivering from cold and exhaustion.

Emma appeared out of the rain and the darkness. She'd been a lot closer than I'd realized.

Olivia crawled painfully to her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath and get to her feet.

Rahne was stock still, staring down at the butchered body at her feet. Then she seemed to shake herself aware. Walking exhaustedly over to Anna and I, she gently pulled Anna away.

I moved back into the center of the circle.

* * *

In the middle of the circle, I pulled off my necklace and held it high over my head. The wind caught it and there was a rattle of teeth and claws.

Overhead, the storm continued to flash and rumble. The rain was as hard as ever. Now that the fight was over, and I had time for such minor things, I could feel the sting of the falling hail.

The mystical energies of the circle seemed to whisper to me. I tried not to think about what Laufey had done to make it work. I tried not to consider that I was now the one using that power.

There was a flash of light as Olivia slammed the butt of her polearm into the ground - and suddenly she was back to normal size again. Forlorn and empty, kneeling in the middle of the wreckage she and the Destroyer had left, Olivia let her weapon fall to the ground and buried her face in her hands.

Emma ran over to her.

"Powers of Asgard," I began softly. "Hear me."

Then I paused. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.

Then I felt tendrils of mystical energy coiling around me. It was like being in a pit of snakes.

I'd opened a door. Something was slithering out. And perhaps it was entering me.

I took a deep breath to continue. We had to get the Destroyer out of there.

"STOP!" Olivia half-screamed and half-gasped. Emma was holding her up. Olivia was holding a pleading hand out to me. The look on her face was shocking in its anguish and terror.

I froze, still holding my necklace high.

"Get out of there!" Olivia pleaded. "You're throwing away more than your life!"

For pity's sake I thought impatiently. What was that worthless quim worrying about now?

Emma also looked terrified. Anna was looking back-and-forth between me and those two.

Rahne seemed...

There was something in her eyes...

She was frightened of me.

Then I shook that all off and disdainfully turned my face back to the sky.

"Stop him!" Olivia screamed as she began staggering towards me.

Emma held her hands to the side of her head and lashed psychic power at me. Oddly, I could see it. It reminded me of a powerful wave pushing up a narrow inlet. However, it just washed around me, having no effect. Laufey's circle had protected me.

No - that wasn't quite right.

Actually, my circle had protected me.

Then Anna and Rahne, moving as one, slammed into me and knocked me backwards. Rahne slashed my necklace out of my hands, raking a good deal of skin of one of my hands in the process.

Keeping to my feet, tangled up in my two attackers, I extended my claws. I was going to gut those two bitches...

Olivia slammed into all three of us. She was no longer in the form of a true scion of Asgard, but she was still much stronger than any normal Wilder woman. Her flying tackle knocked all of us out of the stone circle.

* * *

We landed in a heap, sending up a splash of rainwater. Anna flipped completely over me and ended up on her feet.

Olivia had me in a complex hold. Her arms were restraining one my arms. Her legs, crossed more my stomach, had my other arm locked to the side of my body. It was an interesting and useful hold. An Iron Fist I'd met long ago had shown me how to break out of it, and I'd adapted his maneuver to accommodate my claws.

Of course, getting loose would kill Olivia, but so what?

"Please, please, stop," Rahne begged me. She was kneeling off to the side and she was bleeding so badly. Her arms were crossed over her stomach as if that was all that was holding her together, and...

Wait.

Rahne was hurt?

How had that happened?

I...

Had I...

Everything suddenly seemed to twist off-kilter. Nothing made sense.

Emma's voice was in my head, whispering assurances and calming words.

Then Anna was kneeling by my head. Her face was upside down respective to mine. And she looked so frightened.

"Jimmy, come back," she told me. "Come back, husband."

Her lips met mine.

* * *

It was still raining. We were all soaking wet.

I was sitting with my back to a tree. Rahne was next to me. Her arms were around me and I had an arm around her shoulders.

Rahne was one of the strongest regenerators I'd ever met. If she'd been less powerful, the wounds I'd inflicted on her would have surely killed her. As it was, I knew it would take some time for her to recover completely.

I kept trying not to think of what would have happened if I'd put my claws into Anna instead of Rahne.

Anna was crouched on my other side, her hands in mine and her tail around my wrist. She was crying, but trying to pretend it was just the rain.

Emma was kneeling next to my feet. Her eyes had the distant look they got when she was using her powers. She was keeping watch on me.

That was fine by me.

Olivia was standing nearby, using a stray branch as a cane. She seemed to be studying the sky.

The edge of the circle was a good twenty yards away from us. It was whispering to me, but that meant nothing. I had Anna, Emma, and Rahne with me. Nothing could take my soul as long as they were by my side. They were my soul.

Without any words, Olivia walked over to a large puddle that was being stippled by rain and gazed into it. She must have seen what she was looking for, because she then undressed, tossing her armor, under-garb, and boots to the side until she was completely naked.

Disrobed, I could see that Olivia had been beaten badly during her fight with the Destroyer. She probably had some broken bones. She was certainly badly bruised. If she hadn't been in the form of a true child of Asgard during her fight with the Destroyer, she would have been killed.

Painfully crouching down, Olivia yanked a fighting knife from her discarded belt. Then she knelt in the puddle and open long wounds in her upper arms. I watched carefully, ready to intervene, but she avoided the major blood vessels.

We all watched silently as Olivia's blood cascaded down her body and vanished in the rain. Olivia's eyes met mine. They were simultaneously empty and purposeful.

"I'm sorry," I said to her. Even to me, my words sounded hollow.

Olivia just shook her head. "This is necessary. I should have seen it earlier."

I've mentioned before that Olivia wasn't a beautiful woman. But despite that, she had a dignity about her that was deeply impressive. And never more so than at that moment.

Olvia tossed the knife back into the pile of her clothes. Then she scooped a double-handful of mud from the bottom of her now blood-infused puddle and smeared it over her face and breasts. After that, she held her hands up to the sky.

The rain, mud, and blood mixed together and began washing down her body.

"Thor!" she roared into the storm. "I call upon you in the names of Ororo and Logan - who you once called comrades and friends! You fought side-by-side with them! You served causes that were great and just! You were numbered together among the brothers and sisters of the ancient and honored Avengers! You defended the defenseless and delivered justice to the unjust! I am many times the daughter's daughter of the Lady of Storms and I beg you to heed my call!"

Lightning struck on the far side of the river. Thunder cracked furiously almost immediately afterward. Then a pulse of following sound rolled over us in a fierce rumble.

Olivia held a hand out to the still Destroyer. It was laying in the exact place and position in which it had fallen. We didn't dare touch it.

"Our enemies approach!" Olivia cried. "Take this cursed creation from us! Return it to whence it came! Free our world from its menace!"

There was a long silence as the thundering storm seemed to consider Olivia's words. The world seemed to be holding its breath.

Next to me, Rhane had her Mjolnir pendant in one hand. Her eyes were closed and her lips were moving, but she said no actual words.

"Help us," Olivia whispered, her voice now an almost broken whisper. "Please. Oh, honored ancestor, please help us."

Olivia was crying by now.

"Great-grandfather, please help!" she begged.

The rain and the hail slowed down. And then it stopped.

There was no lightning. No mysterious clouds or mists. No cascade of eldritch energies from the skies. And, strangest of all, there was no thunder.

Thor simply appeared.


	28. Wolverine's World: The God of Thunder

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE GOD OF THUNDER

Olivia was laying half-collapsed in her puddle of bloody rainwater. It was from there that she'd made her plea.

Thor helped her to her feet. He was huge - easily a head and shoulder taller than Olivia, and Olivia was a tall woman. Removing his long red cloak, the god of thunder carefully wrapped it around her bare body. I noticed that when he touched Olivia, it was not as man - even a man with innocent intentions - might handle a woman. Instead, it was as if he was a father seeing after his daughter.

It was all too much for Olivia. Clutching at Thor, she buried her face in his chest. Thor held Olivia, stroking her hair and gently rocking her.

My women were kneeling. Anna was staring at Thor in rapt fascination. Emma kept her eyes averted - doing her best to show appropriate courtesy while not violating her oath to reject other pantheons. Rahne was on her hands and knees. She had her head to the rain-soaked ground and was whispering one heartfelt prayer after another.

I was on my feet. I am a seeker of the Old One. His spirit guides me. His spirit is within me. I do not kneel to any man... or any god.

Olivia became calmer. Thor picked her up and cradled her gently - Mjolnir dangling from his wrist by the loop attached to its handle. Olivia was breathing slowly and easily and her eyes were closed as she rested in the thunder god's arms. It seemed impossible that she was asleep, but she seemed so at peace.

Thor finally looked in our direction. His eyes met mine. I crossed my arms over my chest and bowed slightly. No, I wouldn't kneel to Thor, but one of the lessons of a long life is that courtesy costs you nothing, yet can save your life.

"I can see your grandfather around your eyes," Thor told me thoughtfully, "but actually, you take more after your grandmother. Tell me, did you know her?"

"No, honored one. She died when I was very young. I have no memory of her."

"She was a fine woman," Thor said with a slow nod of his head. "And a great warrior. When Rogers put together a war-band of Avengers that included your grandfather and grandmother, they treated each other as if they were a respected elder brother and a beloved younger sister, but many of us wondered if they would join together someday. The furies that drove them seemed in abeyance when they were near each other."

"I know your grandfather's tale," Thor continued after a brief pause, "but tell me, how did your grandmother find her end?"

"It was during the final war against the Sentinels," I answered steadily. "By then, she was a lady of many years, but she took to the field anyway. She destroyed the last of the demon-machines, but in the end, her injuries and the strain of battle were too much for her."

Then I paused before continuing - not sure what to say, but knowing that there was so much more to tell. "Among my people, there is a day sworn to her memory. Children smear a streak of ash into their hair and destroy wooden replicas of Sentinels. We give them sweets for their courage, and it is said that if the ritual is ever forgotten, the Sentinels will return."

Thor nodded slowly. There was something distant in his eyes. I suppose he's seen many mortal endings. And all too often, some of them had been friends.

Actually, I understood the feeling quite well. It can make you seem strangely hollow - as if those who are gone are real and somehow you are not. It is exactly the opposite of what some might expect.

"A shame the beliefs of your grandfather and grandmother did not allow them to enter Valhalla," Thor mused quietly. "It would be good to have them fighting with Asgard on the day of Ragnarok."

Then Thor laid Olivia on the ground next to us. Still not looking directly at Thor, Emma scooted over to take charge of her friend. She rested Olivia's head in her lap.

Thor smiled down at Rahne's praying form. She still had her forehead pressed to the wet ground.

"Stop that, little one," he told her mildly. "You're getting mud in your hair."

Rahne stopped in mid-prayer. Then she hesitantly looked up. When she saw Thor looking down at her, she hurriedly dropped her eyes and bowed her head again.

Then Thor looked back at me. "As I arrived, I saw a mob of dark-elves heading in this direction."

"There's an encampment of them nearby," I replied. "They certainly saw Olivia's fight with the Destroyer."

"You don't have much time," Thor pointed out.

"We're not really done with our business here," I replied.

The look on Thor's face was almost regretful as he glanced at the crumpled and mangled heap that had been Laufey. His expression hardened quite a bit as he contemplated the Destroyer.

"The dark-elves are after the Destroyer," Anna added suddenly.

"And Malekith is here," Emma said softly, still not allowing herself to look at Thor.

Thor gestured with his hammer.

This time, there was a terrific cascade of red and orange energy from the heavens. It was encompassed by a whirlwind that left all of us - except Thor, of course - staggering and shielding our eyes.

The base of the eerily lit whirlwind almost delicately touched the still form of the Destroyer. Then it lifted away.

The Destroyer was gone.

The whirlwind touched down again. This time on Laufey's body.

And then Laufey was gone as well.

A tremble rippled all along the length of the whirlwind and then it - and the strange energies it contained - simply vanished.

"Thank you," I said. It was difficult to express the relief I felt.

Thor looked at me. "By Odin's decree, dealings between Midgard and Asgard are still forbidden. I was only allowed to come here because Strange told us of the Destroyer. However, I'm sure the Allfather won't mind if I take care of one more task."

Thor glanced at Rahne and smiled. "After all, one of mine has requested my aid."

Rahne made a mouse-squeak of a noise. Thor paused just long enough to put an affectionate hand on her head. Then he turned and strode away.

"I'll deal with your pursuers," he told us over his shoulder.

"Great lord, how did the Destroyer get here?" Emma called out suddenly. She was still holding Olivia - one hand on her friend's face, the other on her shoulder. And perhaps there was some anger in Emma's eyes.

Thor froze. He replied without turning to face us.

"What name is always spoken whenever there is an act of rebellion, treachery, or cruelty that emanates from Asgard? Who do we speak of when a deed seems incomprehensible, and carries nothing but woe and misery in its wake? Perhaps there is a rational reason - a plan - in bringing the Destroyer to Midgard. A plan so deep that it will be decades or centuries before it comes to fruition. Or perhaps it was simply to visit misery on everyone touched by that action."

We all fell silent. Off in the distance, I could hear the approaching dark-elves.

"Kill Loki," Anna said softly. "Please, honored one, kill him."

"Someday, I will," Thor answered. Both the conviction and the regret in his voice were as deep as the ocean.

The last I saw of the god of thunder was his silhouette as he walked into a horizon that was yellow-white with wild lightning. Mjolnir was grasped in his right hand.

Actually, I almost felt sorry for the approaching dark-elves.

Almost.

* * *

Thor's battle with the dark-elves was over. I had no fear that we were being chased.

We cautiously dismantled Laufey's circle, taking the stones and throwing them over the cliff. We were careful to not actually enter the circle. Instead, we simply clawed at its periphery, removing it stone by stone until there was almost nothing left. However, it was impossible to move the large central stone. We had to leave that in place.

Emma and I could actually feel the circle die - its power slowly and surely dissipating as we tore its physical structure apart. Perhaps Olivia could sense it as well, but she said nothing.

When we were done, we retreated southward, back towards the fort. Night had long since fallen, but we kept moving. Olivia was better, but she was leaning on Emma for support. Rahne seemed a bit dazed, but she was steadily recovering.

Anna was beside me, her hand in mine. "Would you be angry with me if I told you that Thor is one hell of a sexy beast?" she asked me.

I smiled, but said nothing. It would be ridiculous to be irritated at Anna for that.

Rahne and Olivia shot offended looks in Anna's direction. On the other claw, the wry expression on Emma's face seemed to suggest that she agreed with Anna.

"What's next?" Rahne asked quickly, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Go back to the fort," I said, "and get the various factions ready for battle. Vanity and politics will be a problem. We have to get our forces moving as soon as possible."

The others stirred uneasily.

"Will they be able to handle a dark-elf legion?" Anna asked. "You seemed to have your doubts before."

"We simply don't have the logistics to sit around and wait," I replied. "Our strategy is simple and ugly - now that the call has been given, the dark-elves will be under steadily increasing pressure. If we fail, then other armies will gather. The Blood will attack from all directions until the dark-elves break."

Anna nodded, but I could still see worry in her eyes.

Actually, it was entirely possible that we might lose an army or two in the process of defeating the dark-elves. That was a cold and terrible fact, but it was the price of war. When a seeker calls the Blood to battle, it is never a pretty thing. However, it is quite final.

* * *

"Thor said that Odin has ordered that Asgard and Midgard be apart," Rahne suddenly said. She had been very quiet since meeting the thunder god.

I nodded.

"Do you know why?" she asked.

"Rahne - Odin does not ask my counsel," I replied gently.

Rahne nodded, but she was clearly disturbed.

"My guess is that Odin feels that Midgard is actually no more," I added.

Rahne gave me a sharp look, obviously unsure of what I'd said.

"The Midgard that Asgard knew was populated entirely by Folk," Olivia explained quietly. "Today, most of the world is inhabited by Blood and Wilder. The Folk are vanishing as they interbreed with the children of the Crippled Lord and have children who are themselves Blood or Wilder. Someday, all that will be left of the Folk will be the tribes of the true-breeding Scatter. And perhaps even they will eventually vanish."

It was strange to hear stolid and bluff Olivia speak with the quiet assurance of a scholar. It occurred to me that Olivia - herself part Asgardian and part Wilder - had reason to consider the mixing of blood-lines more than most.

"Perhaps Odin is mourning the loss of what once was," I suggested.

"Or perhaps some connection - a relationship of some kind between the Folk and the Asgardians - is being cut?" Emma speculated.

Rahne was silent for a long time. Contemplating the vanishing of an entire people is something that should fill anyone with awe and regret.

"If you and Anna have children, what will they be?" Rahne asked me eventually.

Anna laughed. "Blue-tinted hellions with tails and claws," she chuckled.

I shrugged, "And if they take after their mother, I imagine they will be beautiful."

Anna smiled and squeezed my hand.

* * *

We paused for a short rest at mid-morning, and that was more than enough. Perhaps we were buoyed by successfully ridding our world of the Destroyer. Or perhaps Thor had given us some invisible aid. But we didn't tire and we quickly covered the ground back to the fort.

On the way, we passed numerous bands of chaotic, but aggressive, Blood militia. They were probing at the dark-elf skirmishers - and the dark-elves were fighting back viciously. The northern approaches to the fort had turned into a vast and confused running battle. It was the kind of fighting at which the Blood excel.

Dark-elves live a very long time. I wondered if any of them now on Midgard remembered their last intrusion - or had perhaps even been there. This was how the beginning of the end began for the dark-elves the last time they were on our world.

What we saw when we got to the fort was breathtaking. The host of troops in and around the fort had swelled massively. The fort was now the center of a large and sprawling encampment. In some places, bivouacs were neatly laid out and well-organized. In most, it was acre after acre of anarchy. Overhead, various types of flyers patrolled the skies. I saw one of the Iron Men and a dozen angels with their white, red, or black wings.

The Blood of the lower Huds had mustered.

Ancient Strange had brought the Scatter.

And the Captain's professionals and allies had arrived.

An army had been created. It was disorganized, couldn't possibly be fed or otherwise supplied for very long, and was almost surely fractious. But it was an army.


	29. Wolverine's World: The Day Before

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE DAY BEFORE

Some scouts intercepted us and brought us back to the fort. I left the others at the barracks, then I tracked down Shea.

I found him standing among a mix of lesser lords, patiently arbitrating disputes and listening to complaints. Shea was wearing a carnosaur-leather cloak over ancient chainmail armor. He had taken upon himself the rank of warlord - which was Shea's right based on past deeds - and he looked every inch the role. The meeting ended when I appeared. The other lords bowed politely and left us.

"I could kill you," Shea told me disgustedly.

I nodded. "Wasn't there a time when we said things like 'hello' when we met?"

"That was before you created this mess and dropped me into it. What about the Destroyer?"

"No longer a problem," I replied shortly.

The relief that came over Shea's face was obvious.

"What's the situation here?" I asked.

Shea snorted. "I'd say it's fifty-fifty that we go to war with each other before we actually manage to march on the dark-elves."

"What's wrong?" I asked - even though I had a pretty good idea what Shea would say.

"Where do I start? The pious or the bloodthirsty are uncontrollable and have already taken to the field. The lords are bickering with each other. Many of the samurai and militia have decided that their lords are more caught up in petty rivalries than interested in serving the will of the Old One, so rebellion is on the rise. Some ambitious ronin leaders are exploiting the squabbling. Senior lords are negotiating where it will do some good, and cracking heads otherwise, but duels and dominance fights are becoming more and more common."

Actually, that was all rather predictable. The Blood are intrinsically a dangerously restless and touchy people. Put too many of them next to one another and there will be trouble.

"Where's Dugan?" I asked.

"He's the claws of my right hand. He's already had to kill one loud-mouthed lord and a pair of ronin pack-leaders."

"How's Daken working out?" I continued. Actually, I was rather curious about that.

Shea snorted again. "He didn't like the slow pace of organizing an army. That was apparently too boring for him. So he convinced several lords, a number of independent holders, and lots of ronin and other generally angry young Blood to swear themselves to him. So he now has the biggest of the independent packs. They're out scouting, raiding, and ambushing right now."

"I noticed things were hectic just north of here," I admitted.

Shea shook his head. "Daken's young, ambitious, charismatic, and a headlong fighter. And now he's close to having the legitimate right to call himself a warlord. You've created a monster, James. We're all going to regret that."

"He still has to survive our fight with the dark-elves," I pointed out.

Shea let out a bark of laughter. "We should be so lucky that he gets himself killed. His kind usually only perishes amidst a multitude of misguided followers, angry enemies, and innocent victims."

That sounded depressingly accurate.

"It sounds like we better get marching," I suggested.

Shea hesitated. Then he nodded in agreement. There was really no choice.

"We should talk to the Captain," he said.

* * *

The Captain of the Point was a tall and broad-shouldered Folk. He also had blue eyes, dark hair worn in a simple pony-tail, sun-browned skin, and several days worth of stubble. As a lord of the Folk, surrounded by lords of the Blood, he'd spent his entire lordship reminding his neighbors that he and his were not to be trifled with. The samurai and supporting forces of the Point were a legendarily tough bunch, but they actually won battles by being smarter and more agile than their foes.

At first glance, you could see that the Captain had a way about him. He was the kind of man that others wanted to follow. I could understand how Blood samurai were willing to serve a man whose lineage made him their supposed inferior. I'd known many of his ancestors and they had been much the same. That was a trait strong in his family. I rather imagined that the day it finally vanished, so would the Point.

"Honored seeker," the Captain said politely, giving me a minimal bow. He didn't look like he'd slept much lately. He was flanked by two Iron Men. One was the bulky gray and black armor that had been on guard duty at the shrine. The other was a lighter and more slender set of armor that had the traditional red and gold colors.

"Captain," I said just as politely, crossing my arms over my chest as I spoke his title. "I had the privilege of knowing your father and grandfather. I regret we have not met until now."

"The Scatter have a agreed to allow the Captain to speak for them," Shea told me.

"Of course," I replied without hesitation. The last time the dark-elves intruded onto our world, the Scatter also had the Captain of that time speak for them. The lineage of Rogers commands tremendous respect among the Scatter.

The Captain didn't mince words with us. "We have to move. We have at best three days before we disintegrate into useless in-fighting. And even if we can somehow delay that, the near region will be stripped of food, game, and forage in about a week."

I nodded in agreement.

"Then we will move," Shea said flatly. "I propose we advance in two divisions along the west-bank of the Huds. The bulk of the Blood will take the fore. Your forces and the Scatter will follow. The Blood already fighting the dark-elves will cover our advance simply by being there. I'll send the remaining hard-cases up ahead with orders to either attack the enemy directly, if it looks like they can win, or infiltrate past them and find a smaller target if they can't. That way they'll do some good while also being out of our hair."

The Captain didn't argue. In fact, he seemed relieved that we were actually discussing strategy. I also detected a certain respect on his part towards Shea. That was good.

"I see what you have in mind," the Captain said thoughtfully. "Your van will engage the enemy first. Once you have solid contact, my forces will swing around the western flank and attempt to pin the dark-elves against the river. It's a good, solid plan. The only problem is that it's predictable."

"There's little we can do about that," Shea responded. "This isn't a cohesive force that's trained and maneuvered together. We have to keep it simple."

The Captain nodded in reluctant agreement.

"Any word from upriver?" I asked.

Shea nodded. "The Fire priestesses say that Alban and Cats Kill have joined forces and are on the move. The local holders are joining them. Our forces on the east and west flanks of the dark-elves are minimal - mostly just hit-and-run raids by small bands of Blood militia and ronin. Most of the Blood in those areas have either joined us or the northern forces, or they're on their way to do so."

The Captain frowned. "Obviously it would be best if we could coordinate our movement with the northern Blood."

"I'm keeping in touch with them," Shea replied. "I think we can coordinate, but nobody in either army has experience with moving and fighting separate formations over great distances."

"You do," I told Shea.

The Captain nodded in agreement.

Shea paused and looked at both of us. He'd earned the right to call himself 'Warlord' almost fifty years ago when he led three columns of various lords in a desperate fight against a zombie outbreak. I wasn't around for that battle, but after I arrived, I personally put a carnosaur cloak around his shoulders.

"I'll communicate further with the northerners," Shea said. "The lords of Alban and Cats Kill are sharing command - that's a good sign. Hopefully I can get them to cooperate with us as well."

The Captain just nodded. With that, the awkward question of who was in command was settled. I was happy with the outcome.

"We march at first light," Shea said steadily.

The Captain and I bowed and left Shea with a mountain of burdens on his shoulders.

* * *

The Captain gestured to his two Iron Men. They took to the sky in a roar of their boot-jets. Around us, Blood and other warriors watched us walking together and respectfully got out of our way.

"We need to speak in private," the Captain told me. There were too many Blood, all with very good hearing, in the immediate area.

I nodded towards a hill that was a part of the bluff-line. The wind was blowing in that direction - it wouldn't carry our words back to the camp.

The Captain nodded in agreement.

* * *

A young Wilder wordlessly joined us. She was a tiny and handsome black woman with the traditional shaved head of a free telepath. She was silent and deferential, keeping her eyes down around us. Her gray robes were accented with a silk scarf of red, white, and blue. It was the token of her service to the Point and to the Captain.

A pair of Angels - a white-winged male and a red-winged female - followed us for a while, obviously not sure what to make of us. After a particularly low pass, they either recognized us and deferred to our rank, or simply decided to let us be. They banked away and continued back on patrol.

The two Iron Men who had been with the Captain were high in the sky and keeping their distance, but I could tell they had an eye on us. I suppose the Angels would never know how close they came to annihilation if the Iron Men had decided they were a threat to the Captain.

As soon as we got to the hilltop, the woman sat between the Captain and I. Going into a cross-legged lotus position, she placed a psychic shield around us. It occurred to me that she might also be a truth-teller, but that really didn't matter to me. I didn't plan on telling any lies.

Below us the camp was in a turmoil of activity. The word that we were to move had been given.

"Since you're here, I assume the Destroyer is no longer a problem?" the Captain asked.

"Thor took it back to Asgard," I answered. "It's gone."

The Captain looked at me carefully, obviously not sure what to believe. I chose not to take offense. The Captain was an obviously talented and capable man, but like most lords his dealings with spirits, other worlds, and higher powers was limited. It's sometimes difficult for me to remember what that's like.

"That's good," he said eventually. "I'm worried about our chances against the dark-elves. We would have little chance if something like the Destroyer was with them."

"Tell me," he continued, "you've been closer to the dark-elves than most, have you seen anything - anything at all - that might give us an advantage?"

I replied immediately. "They're here for the Destroyer, but they have no way of knowing that it's now beyond their reach."

The Captain nodded. "We might be able to work with that. Is it possible that we could receive aid from Asgard?"

I paused before answering. "Thor destroyed a dark-elf advance force to help us escape, but he also said that Odin is still forbidding contact with Midgard."

That made the Captain sigh. "I've read about the great battle outside of Delphi - and I've also read between the lines and words. Thor's aid was what broke the dark-elves back then."

"There are not as many dark-elves here as we faced back then," I pointed out.

"And we're not the mighty host of the Great Lord," the Captain countered. "We're the best that the lower Huds valley can throw together in a few days. A full dark-elf legion may be too much for us. Could we not simply break into smaller elements, encircle the enemy, and continue harassing the dark-elves, while simultaneously allowing them to learn that the Destroyer is beyond their reach? Might they be convinced to leave our world without running the risk of battle?"

"We must do injury the dark-elves," I said quietly. "They cannot return to Svartalfheim unbloodied. If they do, then they will conclude that they can invade our world at will. The blood we may shed now is nothing compared to what will happen if the dark-elves return in force."

"Is that worth losing the Huds valley?" the Captain responded softly. "Seeing it return to savagery, ruled by wandering bands of Creed because there are few Blood, Wilder, and Folk left to defend their homes and holdings? It might take generations to win the valley back."

"Yes," I said flatly, "it's worth even that."

"That is a harsh decision," the Captain observed quietly. "A decision beyond the realm of a lord or even a seeker. It is the decision of a king."

"The Blood do not have kings," I snapped.

Then the Captain took a deep breath and let it out before speaking again. "Once, the Blood had a Great Lord, and to all purposes he was a king. Some say that his was a time of greatness - a time of prosperity and peace, when Blood, Folk, and Wilder lived together under a wise and just rule."

"The Great Lord is gone, Captain Rogers," I replied slowly. "After the last dark-elf incursion - after that blood-bath at Delphi - he buried his family and vanished. Surely he's long dead."

The Captain seemed to look deep in my eyes. Then he nodded his head in agreement.

* * *

Faye and Rahne were waiting for me outside the barracks. They were chatting amiably. It was such a friendly scene that it was possible to forget that Faye had the right - in the name of her dead brother - to challenge to Rahne to a death-duel.

"I found her searching the camp," Faye told me. "She was looking for her boyfriend. I thought it best to bring her back to you."

Rahne shook her head in disgust, but really didn't seem offended. "I heard that David is with the Blood militia. I just wanted to see him."

I noticed that Rahne didn't seem particularly angry at Faye. Given the circumstances, the two of them were being startlingly friendly.

"Your father should know what you're doing," Faye said firmly. However, there was the tiniest smile at the corner of her lips. It gentled her face quite a bit.

"Why is everyone so sure that I'll hoist my skirt as soon as I'm alone with David?" Rahne asked me imploringly.

"We are informed by untold years of the history of young men and young women," I told her. "It helps that all of your elders were once also young."

Then I glanced at Faye. "Thank you," I said.

Faye nodded. Then I looked back at Rahne.

"You may go find David. However, none of the restrictions I have placed on your behavior together have changed. And if you violate those rules, I will visit my wrath on David."

"Yes, sir," Rahne sighed.

"Go," I said.

Rahne darted off. I followed her with my eyes until she vanished into the crowd.

"She's a wonderful girl," Faye chuckled.

"Yes," I said absently. "She would make a beautiful princess."

Faye gave me an odd look. "The Blood have no kings."

"No. No, they don't."

I looked up at the sky. Then I carefully scanned my surroundings.

There were no signs.


	30. Wolverine's World: The Demon

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE DEMON

We were back inside the fort's guest barracks. The roughly re-built bunks that Benjamin had thrown together were still present, and somebody had cleared away the debris from Anna and Emma's confrontation. I felt a twinge of guilt - according to custom and tradition, I was still responsible for settling those damages.

All around us, the camp was stirring. The army was like a great beast, shaking itself into activity after waking from a restless slumber. Shea had issued orders that we would march in the morning. Some free-lance Blood - eager for battle - were already moving north. They would join the even more hot-headed warriors who'd were currently clashing with the dark-elves.

The remaining warriors were organized around their lords, holders, pack-masters, and other natural leaders. They were more willing to accept orders and would form the truly deadly part of our force. The bloodthirsty hot-heads could trouble and disrupt our foes, but the disciplined warriors were the only ones who had the ability to truly destroy the enemy.

"Where's Rahne?" Emma asked.

"She's out looking for David," I answered.

Emma frowned.

"Leave them be," Anna spoke up quietly. Then she took my hand and began leading me to the back room. Emma followed us.

"What do you two have in mind?" I asked suspiciously.

"There's something we have to do," Anna replied with a grin.

"But we've been too busy until now," Emma added. Her smile was less wild than Anna's.

The door to the small room closed behind us.

Anna kissed me first. Then Emma.

* * *

Well after midnight, Anna carefully crawled out of our bed, grabbed her guitar case, and slipped out of the room.

Within a moment or two, I could hear her picking out a tune as she began to sing softly to herself. She was sitting at the far end of the barracks.

That wasn't unusual. Anna was an intermittent sleeper and playing a song or two always helped her relax.

That particular tune was an old one that was a favorite of Anna's. It was about playing cards and it considered the eternal question of knowing when to hold or fold - and how that related to more vital life decisions.

"She's actually very good," Emma whispered to me. She was curled up by my side.

"You're referring to her music?" I chuckled.

Emma poked me in the side. "She's multi-talented, but I was actually talking about her ability with a guitar."

I reached over and cracked the door open a little wider. Emma's hearing was not as good as mine.

Holding each other, we listened to Anna play. Her next song was another very old one. It was about a preternaturally powerful and dangerous old man who lived down a nearby road. There's an ongoing argument as to whether the old man the song refers to the Old One, Odin, the Lord of North and South, or perhaps some other, unknown figure of legend. I've always leaned towards the latter theory.

"What are the other's doing?" I asked.

Emma stared up at the ceiling and considered my question for a few seconds.

"David and Rahne are together."

"Do I want to know the details?"

"No. No, you don't. However, they aren't doing anything that violates the limits you've placed upon them. David won't defy you and Rahne won't do anything to disappoint you."

I decided to let that go.

"Benjamin and Faye are with a unit of Wall-crawler volunteers," Emma continued, "it turns out that Ben is a reserve sergeant in the Spider Legion. There were some objections to Faye's presence. Faye beat up the chief objector and told the rest that she wouldn't let herself to be separated from her man. The spiders have decided to let her be."

I grunted approvingly.

"Olivia is at the shrine to Lady Ororo," Emma added regretfully. "She's been praying and meditating for some time now. She's very uncertain about what she did during our fight with Laufey and the Destroyer."

I considered that. "She'll have to work that out on her own, but I'm grateful for what Olivia did. It would have been a disaster if she hadn't called upon her Asgardian ancestry."

"Olivia's always been bad about bending rules," Emma said with a helpless and exasperated shrug.

"You don't seem to have that problem," I observed.

Emma stared at the ceiling for a while before responding. "We're different people. She's a warrior-priestess. I'm a trickster-priestess. She enforces the ancient traditions for the good of all. I violate them for the good of all."

I could hear deep regret in Emma's voice. She and Olivia had once been in love. Then the divergent paths of their responsibilities separated them. That was not a parting I'd wish on anyone - especially given the admiration I felt for both women.

Emma resumed. "Your friend Shea is awake and alone. He's consulting maps, reading reconnaissance reports, and praying to the Old One for wisdom."

"As well he might. How about Dugan?"

"In bed with two wives and a girlfriend. They're on their third bottle of whiskey. He plans to get up soon and start getting the various lords and holder moving."

"Whiskey..." I said thoughtfully, "I knew we were missing something. Can you find Daken?"

Emma nodded. "Miles north of here. Right now, he's leading a night-raid on a group of dark-elf skirmishers. His mind is a twisted and angry thing, filled with hatred, grievances, and a desire for power. He's ambitious and dangerous, James. I suggest you kill him at the first opportunity."

"I'll take that under advisement. How about Dare?"

A smile appeared on Emma's face. "She's with the combined troops of Alban and Cats Kill. Right now she's smoothing over some ruffled feathers between Lord Alban and Lord Cats Kill. She's pretty determined to make them into a unified army."

"She won't be able to do that," I observed, "but knowing Dare, she'll do a fine job of making sure that the troops of Alban and Cats Kill are pointed towards the enemy."

Emma just smiled in response.

"How about Rose? Can you find her?" I asked.

Emma nodded. "She's in the area, but in disguise. She's trying to decide if she should approach you. She's not sure if she fits into your life any longer."

That left me silent for a time. It was inevitable that your children grow up, but it was still a hard thing to experience.

Reaching over the bed, I grabbed my trousers from the floor. Standing up, I began putting them on.

"Where are you going?" Emma asked guardedly.

"To see a mage."

* * *

Anna gave me a disapproving look as I walked down the barracks bay towards her. She was sitting in the darkness next to the front door. The door was open and a cool breeze was playing over her bare body. Unless you counted the guitar resting in her lap, all she was wearing was a pair of well-worn sandals.

"What are you up to?" she asked suspiciously.

"I have an idea, but I need to talk to Cyrus," I responded as I finished buttoning my shirt.

"Planning some deviltry?" she guessed.

I nodded and then leaned over and kissed Anna on the top of her head.

"Come back soon, I'm not done with you yet," she said with a sly smile.

"Perhaps you and Emma should get some sleep," I suggested.

"Perhaps," she said noncommittally.

Anna was singing again as I walked away. This time it was a song about ghostly cowherds riding across the sky as they chased demon cattle. She seemed to be in the mood for the classics.

* * *

There were a pair of Strange's acolytes - combat mages from the look of them - guarding Cyrus' residence. However, they let me pass without a word.

On the other claw, it took some doing to get Cyrus' diminutive servant to let me see him. She eventually relented.

Cyrus looked exhausted. He'd spent the last few days being the eyes and ears of the Captain all along our frontier with the dark-elves. He was obviously using magics to keep himself awake and aware. That could be dangerous in the long run.

I explained to him what I wanted.

Cyrus considered my words and saw the value in them.

"It can be done," he said.

* * *

Back at the barracks, Anna, Emma, and I managed a few hours of sleep. Then we greeted the dawn vigorously. There was going to be a battle. That morning might be the last time we were together, so we made the most of it.

We were more-or-less done when there was a firm knock on the door to our tiny room. There were three people on the other side of the door, but I only knew the scent of two of them. The third scent was quite strange.

Outside of the barracks, there was the awesome rumble, shouted orders, and yelled cadence counts of an army on the move. Most of the Blood were already gone, slipped away before dawn. The Captain's troops and his Scatter allies were finally marching.

Anna and Emma were peacefully cuddled together under the blanket - as lovely a sight as any man could ask for - as I put on my pants and opened the door.

Rahne was waiting on the other side. She resolutely refused to look at the bed as she kept her eyes on me. Behind Rahne, Olivia and a lean and ragged-looking figure were standing next to each other. Olivia looked much improved, apparently she'd managed another trip to a healer-mage.

All the man-like creature was wearing was a torn and filthy pair of denim pants. Its exposed skin was covered with the scars that came from claws, weapons, and a well-applied whip. It had dark-red hair and brown eyes. While its lantern-jawed face was empty of any trace of emotion, you could see a very different kind of emptiness in its eyes.

On its forehead, just above its right eye, the skin had been rubbed clean, and a tattoo of a silver-gray, bulky, and man-like figure had been recently applied. Whoever the artist had been, they had talent. With just a few lines and strokes of color, they'd created a very good representation of the Destroyer. And I could sense the magic emanating from it.

There was a massive iron collar around the creature's neck and its hands were manacled before its body. A chain that Olivia was tightly holding led to a roughly welded link on its collar. In her other hand, Olivia was clutching her hammer-polearm. Her eyes were locked on the creature at the other end of the leash.

At first glance, you might think the creature was nothing than a pitiful and abused Folk vassal, but I could smell the difference. It had once - so long ago - been human, but now it smelled of flame and hatred.

I ignored that. That was how it should be.

By then, Anna and Emma were wide awake. Anna was sitting up in our bed and her eyes were wide as she reflexively clutching the blanket to herself. Emma had automatically, unthinkingly, moved so that she was shielding Anna with her own body.

"One of Cyrus' sorcerers found us on the way here," Rahne said nervously, her eyes flickering between me and the chained figure. "He said we should give... this... to you."

I couldn't help but smile. Really, Ancient Strange's people had outdone themselves. I'd expected something bizarre and perhaps dangerous, but this was well beyond anything I'd anticipated. Maybe my mad plan would work after all.

I nodded and held out my hand. Olivia handed the chain-leash over to me with a barely hidden sigh of relief. Then she stepped to the side - away from our captive, but still watching him closely. Her weapon was ready.

"Hello, James. It's been a while," the creature said to me.

"What name are you using this century?" I asked our wretched 'prisoner'.

A smile crossed the creature's face - its teeth were jagged and broken.

"Just call me Blaze," it said. Its voice was low and harsh. There something taunting in his words, as if something in them had a hidden meaning.

"Are you ready to become the Destroyer?" I asked it.

"Will we serve vengeance?" it asked as it cocked its head to the side. It was still smiling.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation.

Its smile became wider.

"Welcome home, James," it told me. "Welcome home."


	31. Wolverine's World: The Leave-Taking

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE LEAVE-TAKING

In my experience, people tend to become rather alarmed when you consort with demons.

Anna, for example, was worried. And frightened.

"Is that what I think it is?" she asked me as she gestured towards Blaze.

Emma didn't say anything, but from the look in her eyes I could tell she was just as concerned. She and Anna were still in bed together.

I still had Blaze's chain-leash in my hands. Olivia, her weapon ready, was watching Blaze closely. Rahne, her body language that of a Blood female ready to spring into action, was also closely watching the demon. Blaze seemed to ignore them as it waited quietly. It was motionless and its eyes were empty as it gazed intently at me. It seemed to exude a palpable aura of impending violence.

As always, the trick was to direct that violence towards a deserving target.

We were on the far end of the barracks bay, just outside the small, private room in which Anna, Emma, and I had spent the night. Anna and Emma were still inside the room. By now, both of them had abandoned the bed and were scrambling into their clothes. Under any other circumstances, I would have found that a rather enjoyable sight.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the time. And besides, we were increasingly surrounded by ghosts - that can be distracting. They were formless, but drifting at the edge of my vision. And their sudden presence was, of course, a sign.

"Blaze is a demon of vengeance," I explained to the others. "It has other names, but it tends not to use them among mortals."

Anna slowly shook her head as she pulled on her trousers and buckled them closed.

"Are you out of your mind, James?" Emma hissed in disbelief. She had just tied shut her white cotton inner-robe.

I shrugged. "It is a weapon. Nothing more."

Blaze chuckled at that.

Rahne didn't say anything, but I could tell that she was also concerned about that state of my sanity.

That particular conversation ended when Ancient Strange suddenly appeared.

* * *

The astral form of Ancient Strange is quite different from how he really looks. The real Stephen Strange is elderly, wizened, and appears quite frail. In his transparent astral form, Ancient Strange is tall and in his early middle years. He wears the dark-blue and black garb of the Sorcerer Supreme - in addition to his red and gold-edged cloak - with serene authority. His hair is dark, with a touch of silver at the temples. His face in unlined and his eyes are clear and alert.

I don't believe the difference between Strange's two forms is a matter of vanity. Fundamentally, an astral projection represents the projector's perception of self. The old often have a tendency to see themselves as they appeared when they were younger. I know I do.

"Ancient One," I said as I bowed formally, "this is an unexpected pleasure." Ancient Strange doesn't leave his Sanctum Sanctorum very often, even as an astral projection.

"Hello, James," Ancient Strange replied - after giving Blaze an appraising glance. The demon smiled thinly at the mage. Ancient Strange didn't return the smile.

"I take it I don't have to introduce you?" Ancient Strange asked me dryly.

"We've met before," Blaze said amiably. "James and I once killed a lot of people together... well, that's assuming you count Creed as people."

Shaking her head in exasperation, Anna looked at Emma and said, "Oh, for God's sake. This is what happens when you marry Methuselah."

Emma nodded in sympathetic agreement.

Ancient Strange looked back at me. "I understand you have a plan. Cyrus thought you might need help. He sent me a rather urgent message."

I nodded in Blaze's direction. "At my request, Cyrus has cast an enchantment on Blaze. When invoked, Blaze will appear to be the Destroyer. It will even emit a mystical aura similar to that of the Destroyer."

"And - if detected - that will attract a response from the dark-elves," Strange said thoughtfully. "Especially if they are under severe military pressure. They might decide they need to seize the Destroyer as quickly as possible."

"Yes," I responded.

Ancient Strange was looking at me intently. "That is something that Malekith might very well decide he must do himself."

"Yes," I said.

"He won't come alone," Ancient Strange warned me.

"I know."

"Your plan is quite dangerous," Ancient Strange continued. His concern was obvious.

"I know," I repeated. Then I glanced at Emma.

"Emma, please call Benjamin, Faye, and Rose. We'll need help."

Then I looked back at Ancient Strange.

"Do you sense the spirits?" I asked him.

The Sorcerer Supreme hesitated - then he nodded.

All around us, there was a great stirring in the planes beyond. On the edge of my vision, I could see dark drifting shadows and white mists. They were the wraiths of those Malekith had murdered, and they were beyond number. The spirit world was actually straining under their weight. Both Ancient Strange and I could feel the... I suppose the best word is 'pressure'... of the presence of Malekith's untold number of victims.

Rahne could also tell that something was wrong. She kept glancing around, but couldn't seem to find the source of what was bothering her. She couldn't quite focus on the spirits. Not yet.

Ancient Strange, of course, knew what it meant. The spirits were here to see the end.

The only questions left involved the nature of that ending. And the cost.

* * *

So much was becoming clear now. The meaning of the last few weeks was now obvious. After years of only occasionally interrupted isolation, I'd met so many others and they'd became a part of my life - just as I became a part of their live's.

It was all for a reason. We had been gathered together to deliver an ending. Throughout untold millennia, Malekith had wrought horror and death. The cosmos remembered. Earth remembered. The Old One remembered. The Blood remembered.

I remembered.

For so long, Malekith had remained beyond my grasp. But no longer. He was here. The arrogant bastard was back on Earth. None of what had happened made sense if that wasn't true.

* * *

Rose was the last to arrive. She floated down from the sky and landed with gentle precision on the front porch of the barracks. Then she stepped inside.

Benjamin and Faye were present. Benjamin was wearing the loose-fitting leather armor of the Spider Legion. There was a spider-emblem on his chest and the three stripes of a sergeant on his shoulder. Faye was dressed as we'd first met her - in a simple dress, worn-out sandals, and a head-scarf that concealed her green hair. We'd just barely managed to contact them before the Legion marched.

Rose and the demon locked eyes for a long moment. I've known Rose for so long that I knew what she was thinking. The chains wrapped around the demon was all she needed. With a twist of her power, she could send it flying.

"Leave it be," I ordered quietly.

Rose looked at me. "So it's finally time?" she asked. Rose knows a great deal more about me than most people.

I nodded.

She glanced back at the demon. "And we're bringing this damn thing along?" Rose asked warily.

"It's powerful and if anyone is vulnerable to the furies of vengeance, it's Malekith," I replied. "He's spent millennia tormenting and killing. The spirits of his victims are calling out for justice."

"Besides, I do owe Jim a pretty big favor," the demon added. Perhaps there was a smile on the corners of his thin lips.

"Bet that's an interesting story," Faye said to Benjamin. He nodded his head in silent agreement.

"Some Creed were playing with magics. They somehow managed to bind me," Blaze added calmly.

Olivia had the key to Blaze's chains. She handed it over to me and I released the creature.

I could feel the restraining magics enchanted into the chains and the iron collar flicker and die as they clattered to Blaze's feet. Blaze then stretched its arms and twisted its torso from side-to-side in what looked like relief. Honestly, I don't know how much of Blaze's human-like behavior is real, or memories of his host body, or an artifice to make others drop their guard around him.

Then it reached down and effortlessly tore the collar loose from the chain. Blaze tossed the collar to one side and then experimentally hefted the long length of chain that was left. He seemed satisfied with it.

"I hope you know what you're doing!" Olivia said to me. For the first time, I noticed that Olivia's eyes were different. When we first met, her eyes were bright blue. Now they had taken on a darker shade - almost gray. Like thunderclouds.

"The signs are all there," I told her. Of course, Olivia didn't know that she was one of the signs.

Olivia hesitated. Then she bowed her head. Her beliefs and mine are different, yet congruent. And just as seekers have responsibilities to the Priestesses of Lady Storm, they have responsibilities to my kind.

"I will follow you, honored seeker," Olivia told me softly.

* * *

"Oh!" Rahne gasped.

We had left the barracks. Ancient Strange needed open space to do the casting I'd asked of him.

The others - except for Blaze - gave Rahne a concerned look. I put a hand on her shoulder. She seemed rattled.

"What's wrong?" I asked, although I suspected I knew the answer.

All around us, invisible to most, a horde of spirits waited. They were still and silent. Waiting for what they hoped would come.

Rahne crossed her arms in front of her and put her hands on her opposite shoulders. She does that sometimes - it makes her look even younger.

"Something's wrong," she replied hesitantly. "There... there are people all around us. People who aren't real."

Rahne was new to this. It had taken her some time to sense what was happening. And she didn't completely understand what she was experiencing.

I gave her shoulder a squeeze - Rahne was trembling slightly. "They were once very real," I said. "It's all right, Rahne. They mean us no harm. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Ancient Strange was examining Rahne closely. Blaze was doing the same. However, the expression on Ancient Strange's face was one of curiosity and concern, while Blaze's was more sardonic.

"It's the dead," Blaze told Rahne. Insanely, its voice somehow actually managed to sound friendly. "They want Malekith, too. We should deliver him to them."

The others were looking at us like we were mad. I didn't blame them for that. This sort of vision was beyond their grasp.

"Why can I see them?" Rahne asked me as she peered around.

As we spoke, Ancient Strange gently shooed away a tiny, inquisitive, ghost - almost certainly that of a child. Then he gestured and a pulsating tear appeared in midair. It swiftly expanded into a gateway to another place.

I leaned forward and gave Rahne a kiss on the forehead. It was the most intimate gesture I'd ever allowed myself with her.

"Rahne," I told her gently. "You're a seeker."


	32. Wolverine's World: The Accursed

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE ACCURSED

"I can't be a seeker!" Rahne protested frantically.

Actually, she did look quite upset.

"Why not?" I asked distractedly. There was a lot happening and Rahne's concerns about her calling were rather low on my list of problems..

Rahne hesitated, but didn't respond. She seemed confused by the question.

Behind the rest of us, Olivia dropped to one knee and slammed the butt of her pole-arm into the ground. There was a crack of thunder and a swirling roar of wind as dust and debris blew past us. When Olivia rose to her feet, she was an almost seven-foot tall daughter of Asgard. Benjamin, Faye and Rose hadn't seen that before. They were agape in amazement as Olivia strode purposefully past them and towards the portal that Ancient Strange had opened for us.

"Just what have you been up to lately?" Rose asked me disapprovingly. I just shrugged. I couldn't think of an answer that wouldn't take far too much time to explain.

"What's on the other side?" Olivia asked tersely as she nodded her head towards the portal.

"A hill overlooking the Dela river valley," I informed her. "There are shrines and graves."

"There is no immediate threat," the astral form of Ancient Strange added mildly. "However, that could change quickly. Be careful."

Olivia didn't break stride as she continued towards the rippling blue portal. Her massive polearm was slung across her shoulders.

"You and I," she told Blaze coldly. "We're on point. Betray us or somehow otherwise fuck this up and I'll break you in half."

Blaze actually grinned as it began following Olivia. The demon began slowly twirling the chain it was carrying. I had the distinct impression that the demon was examining Olivia's backside... and liked what it was seeing. After a few steps, Blaze also transformed. The pulse of heat was tangible, the stench to fire and sulfur pungent, and almost everyone flinched away from the burning skeleton that Blaze had become. The demon's flaming skull was a particularly terrible sight.

I noticed that what had been a mystical tattoo on Blaze's forehead was still visible as a dark engraving etched into his now flame-wreathed skull. Cyrus was obviously one of Ancient Strange's more talented students.

"What the HELL have you been doing!?" Rose yelled at me. She has a temper and she worries about me.

"The demon is the least of our problems," I replied dismissively.

Rose muttered something about age and senility and how she would have to start taking care of me.

Staring at Blaze, Faye crossed herself and then beginning turning into something that was taller, bulkier, and greener.

Meanwhile, Rahne was actually ignoring all of the drama around us as she began wildly gesturing for my attention.

"I can't be a seeker because I'm a girl!" she announced.

Yes, Rahne actually said that. I know it sounds incredible.

Emma looked away from Blaze and took a brief moment to consider Rahne's words. "Well... I can't say I've ever heard of a woman or girl who was a seeker."

"Female seekers aren't in any of the tales or songs I know," Anna agreed thoughtfully.

"Not precisely true," I replied. "After one of the Old One's deaths, Lady Laura took on his title for a time. It's accepted by my kind that she was the first seeker, although she perhaps didn't understand what she had become."

"That's an interesting interpretation of the Interregnum," Emma responded carefully - we were wandering into an area of the traditions that involved one of the goddesses. Like most priestesses, Emma took that sort of thing very seriously. "But I've never heard a Blade priestess describe Lady Laura's Rise in that manner."

"The priestesses who serve Lady Laura don't discuss all of her mysteries - even with the priestesses of the other goddesses," I replied with a shrug.

Emma was giving me a suspicious look. "I don't like it when you claim to know something about the goddesses that I don't know. I like it even less when you're probably right."

I shrugged again. "Emma... it is a big world filled with many secrets and wonders. For example: we've both recently learned that the Lady of Fire likes to have her ears nibbled. I don't think any other mortals know that."

Emma smiled and looked away. There might actually have been a trace of a blush high on her cheeks.

"You know," I persisted, "the Storm priestesses have a tradition that she and the Old One would...

"SHUT UP, JAMES!" Olivia roared just before she stepped through the portal and vanished. Blaze immediately followed her.

"But getting back to the question of female seekers," I continued imperturbably, "issues of gender were simply not much of a concern to the Old One. He was completely willing to accept female leadership. And he was more than willing to fight alongside women-warriors."

"He sure bedded a lot of them," Rose added brightly. "Lady Rogue, Lady Ororo, Lady Grey, Lady Elektra, the eastern princess, the cat in darkness, the shifting woman, the marvelous captain, the woods stalker, the black-eye, the widow, the fox, the tiger, the viper... the list goes on and on. If you believe the legends, he must have spent more time with his pants off than on."

Ancient Strange was trying not to smile. I just nodded. If you serve the Old One, you really should learn to accept his proclivities.

"Personally, I think it's great that you're a seeker!" the now-huge Faye boomed enthusiastically as she carefully patted Rahne on the back. Rahne smiled distractedly up at Faye. Size-wise, they were now a wildly mismatched pair. It was odd that they were becoming friends, but I welcomed that never-the-less. I would have been willing to swear they were fated to go in a completely different direction. Since their legendary first meeting, Blood and Green Bastards have been a difficult mix.

"Benjamin, Faye - you take rear-guard," I ordered. "Everyone else is with me."

Then I glanced at Ancient Strange.

"I'll accompany you," he said in response to my unasked question.

"Thank you," I replied. There was nothing else to say. His presence vastly improved our odds.

Then we all followed Olivia and Blaze through the flickering portal.

* * *

The portal took us elsewhere, then it soundlessly closed behind us.

We were on a tall hill that I knew well, with a view that was just as spectacular as I'd remembered. The hilltop itself was broad and flat, with no trees near the top, just a wide expanse of tall grass. The perimeter of the hilltop was marked by four neatly laid-out shrines that were dedicated to the Old One and the three goddesses.

Emma automatically clasped her hands together and bowed towards the shrine to the Lady of Fire. The shrine was in an older style - a bird with spread wings. Then Emma carefully repeated her bow towards the other shrines. Meanwhile, Olivia was humbly kneeling before the shrine to the Lady Storm. That shrine was a conventional and life-like statue of Lady Ororo, although the style was also quite old. The shrine to the Lady of Blades was more timeless, albeit slightly stylized. It showed her as a faceless woman with a katana in one hand, a sai in her belt, and the twin claws of a Blood female protruding from the knuckles of her other hand.

As always, the Old One's shrine was a simple cairn of stones. The Blood have used that as his representation ever since his final death. My father was the first to stack seven stones to honor the Old One. He did that to mark the place where the Old One had met his end. In the centuries since, the rest of us have simply been following his example.

In addition to the shrines placed around the perimeter, there was a cluster of graves at the center of the hilltop. They were organized in a style common to Blood mass burials. The graves formed a rough circle. In the center of the circle, the family progenitors are buried. Surrounding those centrally-located burials are the graves of their children.

In this particular case, there were three central graves and eight surrounding ones. The graves were marked with simple stones, but there were no carvings. The Blood traditionally assume that those who care will know who is buried underneath a marker.

"I worship Thor!" Rahne said suddenly. "I can't be a seeker if I worship Thor! Can I?"

I couldn't help but smile.

"The Old One used to fight, drink, and occasionally chase women with Thor," I reminded her. "He doesn't care about your religious inclinations. And I don't think Thor cares about your calling. Stop fighting reality, Rahne. You are who you are."

"But, I'm not like you!" Rahne insisted miserably. "I can't do the things you do!"

I nodded. "You're absolutely right. You won't be like me. And you won't do the things I do. Instead, you'll be yourself and do the things you do."

Assuming, of course, that she survived the coming fight...

Anna put a gentle hand on Rahne's shoulder. "Hush. Look around you. We should be respectful here."

At that point, Rahne realized she was standing next to a cluster of grazes and suddenly subsided.

"Sorry," she said softly in the direction of the graves.

At heart, Rahne has always been a good girl.

* * *

From the north and west, a squall was approaching. The dark clouds rippled with a sudden flare of lightning. After a brief pause, thunder called to us.

Olivia was still kneeling before the shrine to Lady Ororo, deep in prayer. I bowed towards the shrine and quietly added my own prayer of thanks. I didn't know which one of Olivia's ancestors was contributing to our cause - for all I knew, it might have been both - but I was grateful.

"Should we begin?" Blaze called from where he stood. A stray breeze wafted the stench of pitch and brimstone from his flame-wrapped form. Perhaps there was some impatience in his words.

"Soon," I replied. I was distracted and needed a moment to think. It had been a long time since I'd last been on that hill.

I was pleased to see that the local holders were still maintaining the site - including both the shrines and graves. That was a responsibility they'd voluntarily taken upon themselves. And oaths passed down the generations from father and mother to son and daughter are not an easy burden. If I survived the upcoming battle, I would have to express my gratitude.

Rose gave the oncoming storm a long look. Then she looked at me.

"Love you," she told me with a tiny smile. Then she gave me a peck on the cheek, put on her ancient helmet, and flew straight up. The hum of her energies surrounded her as she gained altitude.

Once she was fifty or so feet above ground, Rose did a slow twirl, carefully scanning our surroundings.

"All clear!" Rose called down to us.

I waved at her to signal that I'd heard. Then, heedless of the approaching storm, Rose continued to rise. There are some tricks she knew that allowed her to avoid lightning.

"I know this place," Anna said suddenly. "I've been here before."

The look on Anna's face was uncharacteristically withdrawn. Memory can do that to even the most ebullient of us. The others gave her a curious look. Even Olivia, who had just finished her supplication to Lady Storm and was getting back on her feet.

"This is the Great Lord's hill," Anna explained to them, her voice filled with quiet wonder. "It's located in what was once his personal holding. My father took me here when I was a little girl. We prayed and made an offering. Then he taught me the tales of the Great Lord. He said bards had a responsibility to never let his deeds be forgotten."

Emma peered around herself, obviously confirming to her satisfaction where we were.

Then she turned to face me. "James, is this really the best place for a battle?"

"Yes," I told Emma. "In fact, there is no better place than here."

Blaze let out a hissing, rattling chuckle. I'd forgotten how irritating that was. Of course, I'd never told Blaze any part of my story, but its kind seems to intrinsically know things you'd rather they didn't.

The expression on Faye's broad, green, face was diffident and worried - which was most uncharacteristic for her. She nodded towards the nearby graves. "I've heard of this place. That's the Great Lord's family, isn't it?"

"Yes," Benjamin answered shortly. Then he hesitated and said to me, "Perhaps Faye and I shouldn't be here?"

The wall-crawlers venerate their own ancestral spirits, so I understood why Benjamin would want to be careful about offending any local shades. Many Folk feel that the Great Lord's hill is only a place for Blood and Wilder. And no matter what powers they may possess, Scatter like Benjamin and Faye are ultimately Folk.

Anna looked at Benjamin and Faye. Then, after a polite bow towards the dead, she stepped inside the circle of gravestones and gestured to one of the large central stones.

And suddenly, Anna was a story-teller. As a bard, that's much of what she does.

"This is Wanda," Anna told Benjamin and Faye gently, but firmly. "She was Folk, and she was the youngest of the Great Lord's wives. When Malekith's warriors murdered her, she was carrying his child. This place is not forbidden to the Folk. It never has been and never will be. Anyone who says otherwise is at best wrong and at worse a liar."

I found myself nodding in agreement.

Faye looked clearly relieved. Benjamin slowly bowed his head in quiet assent.

"Who are in the other graves?" Rahne asked softly.

Anna looked at the other two central stones thoughtfully. Then she gestured to one of them.

"Sarah was the Great Lord's eldest wife. She was a Wilder of the lineage of Lady Grey, The Great Lord married her well before his rise, back when he was just a wandering claws-for-hire."

_The fact that a woman of such an honored family would deign to marry a scruffy and landless ronin surprised nobody more than me. Of course, I settled down, took land, and became a respectable holder immediately after she and I were finally joined._

_Then I put as much of the world as I could at Sarah's feet._

_It was the very least I could do for her._

"Malia was Blood," Anna continued, nodding at the last of the three central stones. "The Great Lord's marriage to her was political - it united the forces of the Great Lord with those of an important lord named Shiro. It's said that she was proud and very stubborn. The marriage between the Great Lord and Malia was supposedly quite tense until they finally made peace with each other."

_I caught Malia - the stern and proper lady-warrior - playing with Sarah's younger children. She smiled at me in embarrassment. We had been married for almost a year, yet it was the first time Malia had actually deigned to smile at me. It was as glorious and breath-taking as any sunrise, and I will never forget it._

Then Anna made an all encompassing gesture. "The remaining stones are for the sons and daughters of the Great Lord and his wives. Six were born of Sarah. Two of Malia. Wanda was pregnant when she died - the child does not have a separate stone."

"Twins," I said suddenly.

Everyone looked at me, as if surprised that I'd spoken.

_I could hear the tiny double heartbeats, complementing Wanda's heartbeat as she lay next to me in our bed..._

"Wanda was carrying twins," I clarified.

Emma put a gentle hand on my arm. She could see inside of me - see things that were memory instead of history or the tales of a bard. For a moment, I wondered if she thought I was mad. Perhaps she was wondering if my long life had driven me to delusion?

*No, my most honored lord,* Emma whispered privately in my mind.

The gust front from the approaching storm finally arrived. The temperature dropped several degrees as a wild tangle of winds blew past us.

"What's the military situation?" I asked Emma.

She paused and looked to the north. Emma wasn't actually seeing some sort of vision - instead she was gauging the intensity of emotions created by an event as massive as a full-blown battle.

Emma winced. "The main body of the Blood army has encountered the dark-elves," she reported to me. "The bloodshed is... well, it's bad, James."

I'm sure it was. The Blood remembered the dark-elves from their last incursion. They remembered the neatly piled stacks of Blood, Wilder and Folk bodies in the ruins of Delphi. The dark-elves knew that mercy would not be offered.

Then Ancient Strange spoke into my mind. *The dark-elves were attempting to preemptively strike the army. Instead, they ran into lord Shea's advance force of Blood. The Captain is moving north and slightly west as he tries to turn the dark-elf flank, but because this developed so quickly, he hasn't had the time to organize his marching columns into a true fighting formation. Meanwhile, the northern force from Alban and Cats Kill is out of position. They are hurrying in an attempt to make up time and attack the dark-elf rear.*

In other words, the battle had become a thing of confusion and fury. As most battles do.

I took a moment to contemplate the graves of my first family. The first wind-driven raindrops fell. The storm was almost upon us.

All around, I could sense the same massive influx of spirits as we'd witnessed at the fort. The vengeful dead were assembling to witness the upcoming battle. However, I didn't look too close. I didn't dare, because I might recognize some of those spirits and there was simply no time for that.

Everyone was still looking at me when I turned my eyes to Blaze. "Let's begin," I said.

Blaze touched the spot on its flaming skull where Cyrus had tattooed that spell-image. And then Blaze seemingly transformed into the Destroyer. I could even feel a fraudulent mystical ripple that signified the Destroyer's existence. It seemed to flare out from the simulacrum of the Destroyer and shout the lie of its presence.

"I felt that," Emma told me in awe. Her voice was shaky.

"Now what?" Rahne asked.

I shrugged. "Emma, Anna - fall back and strike when needed. The rest of us will form a semi-circle facing the portal when it arrives. Remember to spread out. Don't bunch up next to each other."

We didn't have to wait long. Another portal opened up almost immediately.

* * *

As if somehow coordinated, the cold winds of the oncoming storm washed over the hill at almost the same second the portal opened.

The Folk have a saying that goes like this: "and then all hell broke loose." I've always felt it was an extremely expressive phrase. And it describes nothing better than war.

Two massive, hunch-backed, and heavily armored ogres advanced through the portal. They were easily eight-foot tall and carrying enormous clubs. Behind them, an even larger form was shoving its way through the glimmering blue of the portal.

I noted that with some interest. Two ogres and a smaller giant - the standard force for scouting and securing the far side of a portal gate. It was noteworthy that dark-elf doctrine had not changed much over the centuries.

"Let them through!" I called out to the others. I didn't want the remaining dark-elf force to hesitate or perhaps even abandon their effort to come to our side.

Blaze still had the appearance of the Destroyer as it lashed out with its chain. Somehow, the chain was now longer than it had ever been, and the links flared with red heat as they wrapped around the neck of one of the surprised ogres. Then Blaze yanked the ogre off his feet and towards us. A pair of dark-steel daggers in his hands, Benjamin whirl-winded into the entangled ogre and there was a roar of pain amidst an arcing spray of dark blood.

Meanwhile, Olivia called down a lightning bolt from the storm and slammed it into the other ogre. The ogre flew back and away, bouncing across the hilltop and leaving gouges in the grass-covered soil. Rose - still high above us - used her powers to pick up the ogre and throw him. The ogre dwindled away, became a shrinking dot, and then vanished into the dark clouds.

The giant - over a dozen feet tall - picked up a club dropped by one of the ogres and pitched it at Blaze with incredible force. Spinning end-over-end, the club smashed into the demon with a terrific crunching sound. Blaze was knocked flat. I swear that I saw burning fragments of broken bone splinter away from him.

Without any hesitation, Faye jumped right at the giant. She slammed into the giant's face and there was a dire breaking sound that could be heard even above the rumbling storm. Dying, but still on its feet, the mangled giant kept staggering forward. Faye was still perched on its upper body, her arms wrapped around its neck, and her legs locked around its chest. Then, with a massive surge of her shoulders, Faye tore off the giant's head. There was an immense geyser of blood. Soaked red, Faye threw the head to one side and jumped off as the giant's body kept blindly stumbling forward. A halo of the giant's blood splashed away from Faye's body as she landed on her bare feet.

Meanwhile, Rahne and I had drifted further to one side of the portal, waiting for more prey to appear. The next set of intruders was a pair of dark-elf warrior-mages. They immediately attempted to cast spells, but nothing happened. However, that wasn't their fault. After all, Ancient Strange himself was providing us with counter-magical assistance. Spells would only work on that hilltop with the direct permission of the Sorcerer Supreme himself. Rahne and I seized the opportunity and rushed through and past the dark-elf mages before they had time to wonder what was wrong. They collapsed, their lifeblood soaking into the ground around their split-open bodies.

A third giant materialized through the portal, and another was forming in the blue mist behind him. The new giant was more intelligent than most of his breed - he saw the carnage in front of him, instantly jumped to the side, and landed in a defensive crouch. Blaze scrambled to its feet and charged the giant. Faye took another mighty leap. Faye and the demon hit the giant simultaneously.

Meanwhile, the giant that was partially through the gateway absorbed Olivia's next bolt of lightning and recoiled backwards. The portal itself flared bright blue and white as it soaked up stray energy from the lightning. Either that - or the sudden whipsaw of motion from the giant caused the portal to pulse erratically - and the partially formed giant howled in frustrated agony just before it simply faded away into nothingness.

For a moment, the portal became fully transparent and we could see right through it. On the portal's far side, a trio of ogres were rushing toward us. A troll - its gray skin strewn with warts and pustules - was with them. A huge war-giant, easily twenty feet tall, was also lumbering into position.

However, they weren't important. Amidst the over-sized slave-warriors there was a scatter of dark-elves. I recognized Malekith immediately. He was wearing long and dark robes and standing among a cluster of his bodyguards and officers. His thin face - split into dark and light halves - was wearing an expression of puzzlement and anger as he stared at us through the portal.

Our gazes momentarily met. Just as I remembered, Malekith's eyes were heterochromatic - one blue and the other brown, contrasting with the differing hues of his face.

Malekith didn't recognize me, but I wasn't offended. It had been a long time and, after all, we would be remaking our acquaintance quite soon.

Blaze, still appearing to be the Destroyer, tore itself away from the giant that it and Faye were exchanging blows with and rushed the portal. In a moment, it was through and on the other side. Blaze immediately collided with the three advancing ogres.

Panic set in among the dark-elves as it seemed as if the Destroyer itself was now among them.

I lunged through the portal. Rahne was with me. The others followed as best they could.

* * *

The ogres, the troll, and the giant all crashed into the still-disguised Blaze. I could only conclude that they were seeking to save their dark-elf masters from what they thought was certain doom at the hands of the Destroyer. Actually, I could not help but admire their loyalty and courage. It was just a shame that it was so badly misplaced. As I ran past the melee, I slashed at the legs of one of the ogres. Hamstrung, he collapsed to the ground. I stepped away from a wild backhand swing of his club.

The dark-elf side of the portal was located on the westward bluffs of the Huds river. I instantly recognized the location - we were just a few miles from the abandoned cabins where we'd killed Laufey Sigmundson and sent the true Destroyer back to Asgard. To the south of us, I could see swarms of Blood and dark-elf warriors fighting a confused, half-hidden battle in the heavy woods of the bluffs. The terrain favored the Blood, but the dark-elves had superior magical support and the assistance of their mighty war-creatures. The battle looked like it could tilt either way.

Rose flew over us, gesturing widely with her arms. Nearby formations of dark-elf warriors were thrown backwards as she isolated the area around the portal from the rest of the battlefield.

Benjamin sprinted into the melee that was raging around Blaze and performed an acrobatic, feet-first dive that impacted into the face of the troll. With an astonished howl, the creature rocked backwards and fell on its vast backside. I couldn't see Faye, so I presumed she was still fighting the giant back on the other side of the portal.

Rahne encountered a coldly lovely and aggressive dark-elf officer who was wielding a pair of curved and silvery blades. The officer had rushed forward in an effort to block our movement towards Malekith. She and Rahne immediately became entangled in a blindingly fast exchange of sword-and-claw play.

Olivia came through the portal next and - this is difficult to explain - she brought part of the storm along with her. The portal turned dark-gray as a furious stream of black clouds, shot through with yellow and white lightning, accompanied Olivia and then howled up into the sky above. For a brief moment, I thought I saw a dark, diffuse, feminine form riding among the winds of the storm.

She seemed to smile at me.

Malekith screamed something as he gestured at Olivia. Perhaps, with his vision partially obscured by the roiling storm-clouds, he feared that Thor himself had arrived. However, Ancient Strange prevented Malekith from casting any spells. The conflict between the two sorcerers was became visible as a strange interlacing of green and blue energies that cracked and strained around Malekith.

I ignored everything else and charged Malekith.

* * *

A dark-elf officer cursed in his native tongue as he yanked a sword made of some iridescent metal from its scabbard. Then he stepped between Malekith and I. A pair of bodyguards were backing him up. Behind them, Malekith was still wrestling with Ancient Strange's counter-magic. A mage in astral form - such as Ancient Strange - is usually at a disadvantage when contesting a physically present mage. The fully-formed mage can draw upon more raw power since he doesn't have to waste part of his strength to maintain an astral form. So far, Ancient Strange had been so much stronger than the other dark-elf spell-casters that it simply hadn't mattered. However, Malekith was a different matter. He was a formidable magic-user, with thousands of years of experience.

It seemed to me that the struggle between Ancient Strange and Malekith has beginning to slowly turn the dark-elf's way.

I spun to the side and killed one of the dark-elf bodyguards, using his falling body as a moving shield against the officer. However, that left the second bodyguard free to act and he jammed his sword deep into my side. Ignoring the pain, I removed the second bodyguard's sword-hand and then kicked him away. He collided with the officer, but I was too out of position to take advantage of that. Meanwhile, more bodyguards were approaching.

The officer recovered and advanced on me. I dodged away, but a blindingly fast swing from one of the bodyguards caught me on the shoulder and partially spun me around. The dark-elf officer closed on me. I slashed a triple track of cuts along his sword-arm, while simultaneously ripping open a bodyguard's throat.

Behind me, I heard a BAMF! as Anna arrived. Then I felt the tingle of a mental attack slide past me - Emma was with Anna. The dark-elf officer's face contorted and he fell to the ground, his sword dropping from his bloody hand. The bodyguards also collapsed. A bodyguard who hadn't been struck by Emma's attack threw a spear. Behind me, I heard Emma cry out in pain.

I was too busy to even look. Instead, I kept staggering forward, holding one arm tight against my side as that wound tried to regenerate - dark-elf blades are ensorcled and the wounds they inflict are slow to heal. I didn't want to lose too much blood. An attack of dizziness, no matter how minor, would probably be lethal.

Anna appeared in midair above the spear-thrower and landed on top of him. He never saw her coming and was driven to his knees by the force of the impact. Anna grappled the bodyguard's wrists with her hands and feet and began strangling him with her tail.

With a shout of triumph, Faye bounded past us all and went directly for Malekith. She hit the crackling energies surrounding him and was blown explosively backwards. Faye flew up and back, her body rag-doll limp as it rotated through the air. I never even heard her hit the ground.

The unnatural blue and green forces surrounding Malekith faded away as he smiled in triumph. He had finally beaten Ancient Strange. At best, Stephen had been forced into his physical form and was back in his Sanctum Sanctorum. At worst, the long, long tale of Ancient Strange was finally done.

Near the portal, the battle was still raging. Behind me, multiple lightning strikes flared and died - illuminating the hill with stark flashes of pure white light - as Olivia slew our foes. The others in our band were keeping stray members of Malekith's staff and personal guard busy, but they were so tangled up with their struggles that they couldn't help Rahne and I against Malekith himself.

Rahne appeared near me. She was splattered with the life-blood of the dark-elf officer she had been fighting. The officer hadn't been strong or skilled enough for Rahne. Without a word, Rahne and I split up and approached Malekith from different sides. In the end, the Blood are always predators.

Anna broke the neck of the bodyguard she'd been wrestling with and rose to her feet. She was the closest to Malekith and...

Malekith gestured. Anna's eyes widened and she tried to dodge away, but instead Malekith's magical attack engulfed her and a nimbus of cold and blue-white light blazed around her body. Then she collapsed motionless to the ground. I went cold inside as Rahne gasped in horror. However, the Old One was with us both - nothing could stop us from fighting. And we would fight until we won or died.

Malekith thought he had the battle well in hand. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge how his troops were doing against Lord Shea's Blood...

And then, out of nowhere, Blaze's thrown chain spun into Malekith, wrapping him in its coils. The steel attached to Malekith's body was all Rose and Olivia needed - they struck simultaneously and their respective energies coursed through Malekith as his body contorted and twisted. His magical protections flared and died in a sizzle of heat that ignited the long dry grass around him.

Ignoring the flames, the crackling electricity, and the red-hot chain, Rahne leaped onto Malekith. The claws of one of her fists jammed through his thigh and pinned him to the ground. The other dug deep into Malekith's stomach, the bones of her claws scraping against the chain that was wrapped around Malekith. She was trying to get her claws under his rib cage and into Malekith's heart, but Blaze's chain was now contrarily acting as armor.

Malekith wriggled an arm loose from the chain and back-handed Rahne across the face. The blow rocked her back and left a savage burn-mark on her face.

I landed with both knees on Malekith's chest, driving the wind out of him. My left-hand claws entered his sternum and jammed into the earth below him, the others went through his neck.

Somehow, using his unpinned leg, Malekith managed to kick Rahne away. With one hand, he grabbed my left wrist and half-pulled my claws out of his body. With the other, he scrabbled at my right wrist. Both of his hands were glowing with the residual heat of his magics and I could smell my flesh searing away under his touch. Given the injuries Malekith had suffered, that show of resistance was a staggering feat of strength and durability. Malekith was best known as a mage, but he was still a formidable warrior.

Once again, the eyes of the dark-elf met mine. My face was only inches from his. That close, he looked surprisingly mortal.

"Who?" Malekith gurgled up at me as his mouth and throat filled with blood. More than anything else, he simply seemed puzzled and disbelieving. Death is often a surprise - especially to those who have lived so long that they've forgotten its inevitability. That's the great failing of gods, near-gods, and other entities of mythic power. They don't realize that even they can end. The just don't believe that the day will come when their power fails them, when their minions aren't enough, and they will run into someone who plays by a different set of rules than the rest of their pantheon...

"We've met before," I told Malekith, "but it has been a while."

There was a flare of light from Malekith's eyes. And suddenly, the flesh was flayed away from my face. Blood flooded my eyes, and I was blind.

That was enough.

I twisted my right hand, the flesh of my wrist peeling away in Malekith's burning grip. I felt the pop of severing vertebrae and the gush of hot blood as the rotation of my claws finished separating Malekith's head from his body.

Malekith's body thrashed far longer than it should have, and then it went still.

Staggering to my feet, I stood among hot, scattered, flames and held high the blood-drizzling head of the dark-elf king. My vision was slowly coming back, but everything was indistinct and bleary.

Rose flew overhead, yelling my name. I tossed the head up to her. It was a poor throw, but she caught it anyway and then climbed further into the sky, brandishing our grisly trophy in both of her hands.

"Warriors of Svartaflheim!" she called out, somehow amplifying her voice to incredible proportions. It's a trick of hers. Her words boomed and echoed along the bluff ridgeline.

"Look upon your king!" Rose bellowed - somehow even louder. "Look upon Malekith the Accursed!"

Rose's voice broke on the last word. Below us, a low moan of horror and disbelief spread through the dark-elf army.

My vision was just clear enough to see what came next. The dark-elf formations began to disintegrate in panic.

For a long moment, the watching Blood and Wilder were strangely silent and still. Even though they had offered their lives to fight Malekith, perhaps they never really believed that he could actually be killed.

I was having trouble remaining on my feet. The magic-tainted wounds I'd taken were slow to heal. Rahne put her shoulder under mine, carefully wrapped an arm around my waist, and began walking me away from Malekith's body.

"Rahne..." I told her dazedly, "you'll be a far better seeker than I ever was."

She frowned in surprise.

"I didn't do this for the Old One," I confessed. "I didn't do this for the Goddesses or for our people. I didn't do this to warn the other-worldly powers away. I didn't do this because it was necessary or right or just. I did it all - lost all that we've lost, done all that we've done, sacrificed lives and almost burned down the Huds valley - just so I could kill Malekith with my own hands."

"I know," Rahne told me softly. Then she hugged me.

"Take me to Anna and Emma," I ordered.

Rahne hesitated and then looked up at me. Her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty. I didn't want to know what that meant.


	33. Wolverine's World: The Old Man

WOLVERINE'S WORLD - THE OLD MAN

"My lord?" the troll said as softly as he could given his deep, gravelly, rumble of a voice.

I looked away from the two boys that I was reprimanding. Gant the Troll was at the entrance of the great-hall, on his hands and knees and with his forehead pressed to the stone threshold. I really don't approve of that sort of thing, but the dark-elves brutally train their slaves into abject servility. We freed the surviving war-slaves of Malekith's army, but old habits die hard. And nobody has ever accused ogres, trolls and giants of suffering from too much intellect.

"Get up, Gant," I ordered distractedly. Gant clambered to his full nine feet of height, crouched and fully entered the great-hall, and then gave the two Blood youngsters who were with me a baleful look. The boys stirred uneasily. Gant was quite possibly the ugliest two-legged creature on Earth.

Gant lives under the moat bridge that leads to my front gate. He helps keep an eye on my holding and my family and I greatly appreciate his loyalty and service.

"What is it?" I asked.

"May is talking to ghosts again," Gant reported.

May is my youngest daughter. She has light blue skin and a tail that - much like the rest of her - never seems to stop moving. You can see so much of her mother in May, but she's tall for her age, has eyes that are more Blood than Elvish, and possesses a sharp set of claws worthy of any Blood female.

Also, May can see spirits. We found that out when she began telling us that about her special friends. Friends that most other people couldn't see - like the dark and pretty lady with white hair. The dark lady visits every now and tells May stories. May is always eager to see her again.

I looked back at the two youthful Blood ronin. They were barely old enough to shave. Their fathers had died in battle against the dark-elves, but they were far too young to be allowed to duel without permission. In the absence of their fathers, the local Blade priestess had asked me to assume that responsibility.

"You may not duel," I said coldly. "And if you disobey my decision, the survivor will answer to me."

Gant let out a soft growl to reinforce my words. Both boys took deep breaths, looked away, and shuffled their feet. They weren't exactly scared, but they understood that they were in well over their heads.

Actually, I had the impression they were relieved by my decision. After all, not long ago, the boys had been friends. Perhaps they could become friends again.

"That girl you two are quarreling over... what's her name?" I asked in a less harsh tone.

"Lisa, my lord," one of the boys answered. The other just nodded.

I sighed. "For pity's sake. Little Lisa? Carl the blacksmith's daughter?"

Both boys shot each other a jealous look and then more-or-less nodded in unison.

"She's come to breedable age, my lord," Gant informed me imperturbably, "but she too much likes to shake her shakables at stupid young bucks and make them dance for her. It's a terrible scandal."

Trolls are surprisingly knowledgable gossips. Apparently living under a bridge gave you many opportunities to overhear passing conversations.

Gant glared at the boys. "Stupid young bucks," he repeated in a low growl.

Both boys were smart enough to keep their mouths shut. Good for them.

"I'll talk to Lisa," Emma said as she entered the hall.

Gant and the boys immediately bowed. Emma was wearing the simple and severe gray robe of a truth-teller, but she commanded instant respect from any who were in my holding.

I absently noticed that Emma's blonde hair was wet and neatly combed back.

"Lisa's a good girl," Emma told me with a wry smile, "but she's become very pretty and boys are paying attention to her for the first time. That's gone to her head. I'll chat with her and her mother. We should be able to calm her down."

I nodded as I continued glaring at the boys. "Stay away from each other. I haven't ordered a whipping yet, but the very sight of you two acting like dolts tempts me. Now get out."

The boys bowed and fled.

"Your littlest cub is in the orchard," Gant hinted.

I nodded and then kissed Emma.

*I rather like this domineering side of you,* Emma sent to me.

*So you keep saying,* I responded just before I kissed her again.

*You know..." Emma said thoughtfully, "I was just getting out of my bath when I heard you yelling at those two boys. I was in such a hurry to get dressed and put in an appearance - and maybe prevent you from doing something dreadful - that I simply didn't have the time to put on anything except for this robe. I'm shockingly bare underneath it.*

*I can tell,* I replied as I let my hands slide up and down her back. I could feel the ridge of scar tissue located just below her ribs. My thumbs brushed against the sides of her unsecured breasts.

Gant coughed mildly. He does have a one-track sense of duty.

*I'll be waiting for you,* Emma promised. Mischief and anticipation were dancing in her eyes.

Gant escorted me out of my hall. Two samurai waiting outside the gated entrance formed up behind us.

* * *

Talking to spirits isn't intrinsically bad. After all, I've done a lot of it in the past, and occasionally still do. But May is very young and I want to know precisely which spirits she's communicating with. Spirits come in many forms and natures.

In the orchard, May was indeed having an animated conversation with a spirit. In fact, the spirit was telling her about a wondrous place across the sea that's called Japan. May seemed fascinated.

The spirit was a short and very tough-looking older man. His clothing was very informal - a pair of denim pants, heavy brown boots, and a dark leather jacket over an oddly thin shirt of what looked like white cotton.

I froze when I saw the spirit. Gant barely avoided running into me. My samurai immediately became worried and moved around to flank me.

Lifting a hand, I waved my samurai back. They slowly retreated back to the orchard gate.

Gant stayed with me. It would hurt his feelings if I told him to leave.

"Hi, Daddy! Hi, Mr. Gant!" May called cheerfully as she waved to us. The spirit simply looked at us, with a trace of a smile on his face.

I walked over and put a hand on May's head, smoothing down her tangle of wild blue-black hair. No matter how hard Anna tries, she just can't seem to set May's hair into a workable style. I reminds me a bit of how Rahne looked when we first met.

"Go find your first mother," I told May. "It's time for your lessons."

May's face brightened. Anna's injuries have forced her to give up the life of a wandering bard, but she still teaches our children to sing, tell stories, and play instruments. Some of the children don't find the lessons to their taste, but May loves them.

"Bye!" May told us brightly. Then she took off at a run. I swear, the girl never walks anywhere. It hadn't yet been established if she could teleport, but I dreaded the possibility. She would get into everything.

"Keep an eye on her," I told Gant. He immediately nodded and turned to follow May. She didn't really need a bodyguard, but that gave Gant something to do that he felt was appropriate to his station, and left me alone with the old man.

I looked back at the old man and bowed politely. "It's been a while," I told him.

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah... not since the night we had that foursome with Jeanie and Emma."

I really couldn't think of a way to respond to that.

"Cute kid," the old man said, nodding his head in May's direction. She and Gant were now holding hands as the troll walked her back to the keep. "Holding hands" consisted of May maintaining a two-handed grip on Gant's little finger.

"May's my favorite," I admitted, "but I try not to let it show."

"That happens," he said sympathetically. "Just do your best to be fair. Y'know... I think Kurt would have been happy to see our blood joined together. I bet your little girl is going to grow up to be something special."

There were some worrisome possibilities in those words, but I decided not to pursue that.

Then the old man paused thoughtfully. "Kurt's not with the rest of us. His after-life took a different path. But I hope he can see this."

I just nodded. That made sense.

"What's Rahne up to?" I asked.

The old man chuckled. "Speaking of favorites... Rahne, Rose, Olivia, and Faye are up in Maine. There's a local lord who's a jackass. He treats his people like crap and starts fights with other holders and lords at the drop of a hat. The entire region is going to hell."

I considered that. "Are they going to overthrow him? Shea is still trying to sort out the mess they left after they dealt with lord Washton."

The old man shrugged. "I think that's something for those four to decide. I trust their instincts."

Then he cocked his head at me. "How do you think things are working out with Shea?"

I paused to consider before answering. "Very well. A phenomenal number of holders and lords swore themselves to him after we destroyed the dark-elf host. There are some who already call him the next Great Lord. Even the Captain and the Iron Men have sworn alliance with him. That's something the old Great Lord never accomplished."

"Where do you think it's gonna go in the long run?" The old man seemed genuinely curious about my opinion.

This time I didn't hesitate. "Daken's becoming a pain-in-the-ass and eventually he'll go too far. It will mean another war, but I'll help Shea and the Captain put him down. Thereafter, with a little luck and perhaps some pushing and nudging, the region will finish stabilizing. We should have a half-century or so - maybe more - of wise and just rule. But after Shea passes, we'll be back to the usual chaos."

The old man nodded in agreement. "Unless, of course, somebody who knows the Huds valley and its people can manipulate a talented lord into becoming the next Great Lord after Shea's gone."

"I've considered that," I replied slowly.

"Consider it harder," the old man said flatly. It wasn't a suggestion.

I bowed my head in acquiescence. I am not a seeker any longer, but I am - as always - a loyal servant of the Old One and the three goddesses.

"So how's it going otherwise?" the old man added.

"Two beautiful wives, four healthy children, and a place to call home. What more could any man - Blood, Wilder, or Folk - ask for?"

The old man barked out a laugh. "Some men would say they want buckets of gold, power without responsibility, and a harem filled with so many cuties that he can't remember all their names."

I sighed. "If I was ever like that, those days are gone. I don't need the wealth, power is a burden, and Anna and Emma are more than enough for me."

"Is Anna still walking with a cane?" the old man asked suddenly. I could see concern in his eyes.

I shook my head regretfully. "Yes. She does her best not to let others know, but that bothers her."

The old man seemed to consider my words.

"Y'know, there's a kid who'll be passing through town in a few days," he said eventually. "His name's Carson. He's a mutant healer - one of Josh Foley's kin. But he's a real sharp youngster and he's also studied both medicine and healing magic down in New York city. That makes him pretty special. Maybe he can help Anna."

I felt a surge of excitement that I was careful not to show. "I'll track him down."

Then I paused thoughtfully before speaking. "Mixing healing powers, magic, and formal scholarship? That is a new thing. It could do a lot of good and strikes me as something to encourage."

The old man smiled at me. "It does, doesn't it?"

I decided to take the hint. "I'll keep that in mind," I promised. "Perhaps I can talk to Cyrus and the Healer's Guild in Nyack and get them to cooperate. Is there anything else?"

Then the old man seemed to consider me for a long moment.

"Yeah, there is, but it's something that I can't order you to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked carefully.

"There's a set of bloodlines that it might be important to mix," the old man said with a very dry smile. It was the smile of someone who knew he was about to get an angry response. And that it was probably deserved.

I waited.

"You should consider taking Olivia on as your junior wife," the old man finished matter-of-factly.

I just stared at him. I can only imagine the expression I must have had on my face.

"Think about it," the old man continued. "Olivia and Emma think a lot of each other. Anna likes her. She'd be a strong addition to the family. She's of the age when her temple expects her to get hitched. And a man of your rank really should have a third wife - it's expected."

"As far as I know, Olivia has no interest in men," I finally choked out.

"She respects you a lot," the old man pointed out reasonably. "That's a good start."

"And I think the world of her! But she..."

The old man held up a hand to calm me down. "Just think about it. Offer to be her beard with the temple. Then see how things work out."

I didn't understand the 'beard' reference - I don't wear one. But I caught the gist of what he was trying to say.

It was an ridiculous request.

Utterly ridiculous.

Of course... there was something to be said for having Olivia in the household as a final line of defense for Anna, Emma, and the children.

And Olivia's own children would undoubtedly be strong and healthy. And she was very attractive in a strong and scarred way. And Olivia was definitely someone you wanted watching your back and giving you counsel - she had a quiet and deep wisdom to go along with her boundless courage. And with her in the family, I'd have the Storm Temple and perhaps even Thor himself as allies. And a third wife meant that the other regional lords and holders would finally stop throwing their dreadfully young daughters at me...

The old man grinned. He was obviously ready to leave. "Give May a goodbye kiss for me. She's well on her way to becoming my favorite descendant."

"Wait..." I said suddenly, before he could go.

The old man paused.

So did I. This was going to be difficult to put into words.

"After killing Malekith, there was something I realized..." I began slowly.

The old man nodded slowly. "Yeah. You told Rahne. I heard that conversation in stereo."

I wasn't sure how to respond. What was 'stereo'?

Then the old man looked into my eyes. "What we do... What we are... We're not saints, Jimmy. Never have been, never will be. We're hunters, predators, killers - and the best of us try to be protectors. That bastard Malekith had to go, and we had to convince the dark-elves to back the hell off and leave our world alone. And there's no way that would happen without a lot of pain. I'm not picky about what was in your heart when you did what needed to be done. Maybe you shouldn't be either."

And then he left, walking off down the road that lead away to my holding. After while, he simply vanished, leaving me with much to consider.

Benjamin approached. He was wearing a chainshirt and the grips of pair of shortswords were protruding over his shoulders. Rather than leaving him alone to fret full-time over what Faye was doing, he was now one of my senior samurai. I made it a point to keep him busy.

"Gant and May said something about a ghost?" he asked worriedly.

I nodded. "It was just a visitor."

Sensing that I didn't want to talk about it, Benjamin nodded.

"I need you to go into Cats Kill," I said after a brief pause. "Keep an eye out for a Wilder named Carson. He's a healer. It may be a few days before he shows up. Offer him whatever it takes to get him here. Do not take no for an answer."

Benjamin nodded immediately. "I'll grab my gear and hit the road. Anything else, boss?"

"Stop off at David and Rahne's home. Tell David that Rahne's up in Maine and she's safe for the moment."

Benjamin didn't ask how I knew any of what I'd just told him. Instead, he took his leave and headed over to the barracks.

Back at the keep, Anna and the children were filing out of the gate. Anna had a cane in one hand and her guitar in the other. She spotted me, smiled broadly, and waved with the guitar. The children didn't have their instruments, so today was singing lessons.

Emma came to the gate and leaned against its stone frame, watching Anna and the children. Her eyes met mine.

*I love this,* Emma told me.

So did I.


	34. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 1

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 1

On this day, the children of my holding had become a horde of ferocious giant-slayers.

The giants were massive effigies that the people of the village and the surrounding farms had spent the last week constructing. They towered over the center of the village commons, their long purple cloaks drifting in the morning breeze.

What "Sentinel" once meant was now almost completely lost to history. Only a few unusually long-lived survivors of those times, and perhaps some strangely erudite scholars, still remembered the truth.

So be it. The Old One and his Wilder companions fought long and hard to create a world where the Sentinels were no longer a threat. I am quite comfortable with allowing their terror to become a thing of myth and legend.

"Let the Old One's will be done," I whispered to myself.

My wives were sitting with me. They glanced at me after I spoke, but said nothing.

* * *

Olivia carefully finished chalking a streak of white ash into our son's hair and finally let him go. With an eager yelp, Oliver leaped from his mother's lap and raced off to join the other children. After pausing to seize a large tree limb from a pile of similar debris, he set to work, happily battering at one of the giants.

The other village children used everything from bare-hands, to clubs, to small white claws, to attack the foes of all who live. Overhead, a pair of Angel girls, one with white wings and the other with black, were beleaguering the giant's head with improvised wooden spears.

For his age, Oliver was quite powerful. With just a few blows, he wrecked the ankle and shin of a huge wooden leg. The entire structure jerked in response - groaning as it leaned precariously. The children shrieked in laughter as they scattered away from the slowly falling giant. The two Angels frantically flapped their wings as they gained altitude.

However, Oliver refused to flee. Instead, he brandished the splintered remnant of his club, spun it around his head several times, and then threw it at the giant. It unerringly slammed end-first into a woven-straw "eye".

The Angel girls laughed and waved their weapons as Oliver roared in triumph. The other children jumped up and down in glee.

Giant-slaying was in Oliver's blood. On both sides of his family.

My wives and I watched placidly as May - my youngest daughter by Anna - hastily grabbed Oliver by the collar, and teleported them both away. They vanished in a bamf of acrid smoke and materialized a dozen yards away. The giant thunderously collapsed onto the spot they had just left.

The watching adults cheered and applauded the demise of the first giant. The Festival of the Hidden Lady is about remembrance, but it is not a somber time. Adults remember the Hidden Lady with laughter and celebration, youngsters remember her with unbridled glee.

I'm sure my grandmother would have liked it that way. I have an ancient and treasured memory of her at the head of the local militia as she led them out against what would be the last resurgence of the demon-machines. The feral smile on her face had been as grim and purposeful as that of any Blood samurai.

I was just a boy at the time. It's said that, just before her injuries finally claimed her, she destroyed the last of the Sentinels with her own hands. They have never returned. There are those who call her "curse-breaker".

"You be a good boy, Jimmy," my grandmother told me just before she left. "Watch out for everyone. Make sure they're okay."

My grandmother is buried on her last battlefield - I make a point of visiting whenever I'm in the area. And there are times that I've wondered if perhaps I've spent the rest of my life obeying her final command.

"Oliver!" I called out suddenly, "leave something for everyone else!"

He waved at me and then eagerly took off at a dead run for the next wooden titan. Having slain their first monster, the village children were already gathering around their next victim. They all had the streaks of white in their hair that symbolized the Hidden Lady. Many of the girls were also wearing gloves and hoods.

Anna and Emma - my first and second wives - were both laughing as they watched the show. As was only correct for a first wife, Anna sat to my right, while Emma and Olivia were on my left. At the moment Anna was comfortably leaning against me, with her head on my shoulder. Her tail was amiably wrapped around my waist and the tip of her barbed tail was tucked into one of a belt-loop of my pants.

"May! Keep an eye on Oliver!" Anna called out to our daughter.

May took a moment to roll her eyes - an act which made her look a great deal like her mother - and then ran after Oliver. She's very quick, and caught up to him in no time.

Meanwhile, Olivia had a hand over her mouth, partially hiding her smile. Really, there was no need for that, but she was still a Storm Hammer of Lady Ororo - both a priestess and a warrior. That position called for a certain dignity, even when she was with those she loved. Olivia sometimes had a problem showing her gentler emotions.

I took Olivia's hand in mine, gently pulled it down to her lap, and then gripped it tight. Olivia gave me an affectionately indignant look, but then finally broke out into full-blown grin. Fate had gifted Olivia with many fine qualities, but she was too rough-hewn, rugged, and scarred to be considered a conventional beauty. Until, of course, on those rare moments when she let herself smile. When that happened, she rivaled any woman ever born.

Emma leaned over and kissed Olivia on the bald side of her head. Olivia, of course, still wore her hair in a white mohawk. Then Olivia actually blushed. Emma had almost certainly mind-whispered something suggestive to Olivia. Emma is very good at that sort of thing, and Olivia is so easily victimized.

Perhaps two of my wives cared more for each other than they did for their husband. If that was the case, then so be it. I was fortunate to have them in my life under any circumstance, and only a fool would question that sort of luck.

Leaning over to me, Olivia whispered something in my ear. She was still blushing.

"Whatever it is, I'm up for it," Anna added eagerly. Anna is generally "up" for anything that involves the bedroom.

I gave Emma a long and level look. "Stop embrassing Olivia by forcing her to make such suggestions for you."

Emma shrugged. "She lost that bet with me fair and square. So for the next year she has to do the asking."

Olivia gently jabbed an elbow into Emma's side.

"And there's nothing indecent about a little three-on-one!" Anna interrupted indignantly. "It's the most efficient way for a man with that many wives to have some innocent fun!"

I was about to make a comment about Anna's interpretation of the concept of "innocent", but then I spotted something that caught my attention.

He was standing off to the side, watching the children in their savage play. Nobody else, even those standing right next to him, seemed to notice his presence.

It had been a long, long time, but I knew him. I knew him all too well.

"Excuse me," I said tensely as I got to my feet. Anna's tail was still wrapped around me, and before she could release me I almost yanked her from the bench on which we were sitting.

"What the hell?" Anna gasped in surprise as she hastily disentangled herself from me.

"Stay here," I ordered as I walked away. There must have been something particularly urgent in my voice, because - for once - my wives actually did as they were told.

"Gant, stay with him," I heard Emma order. She sounded worried.

That was actually unnecessary. Gant - my nine-foot-tall Troll servant - was already hustling after me. He takes his role as a defender of both my family and myself very seriously.

Cutting across that part of the village commons on which food was being loaded onto the feasting tables, I advanced towards our visitor. As I walked across the field, my vassals bowed and carefully got out of my way. A female ogre and some of the older Folk knelt as I passed. I discourage that sort of thing, but old habits always die hard.

The watching figure slipped into a copse of nearby trees that bordered the village. He obviously wanted me to follow.

"Wait here, Gant," I said. Gant grunted skeptically, but did as I'd ordered.

Some of my samurai - many of them off-duty because of the festival - had noticed that I was up to something and were worriedly heading in my direction. Just before I entered the tree-line, I waved them back. Like Gant, they reluctantly obeyed. By now, everyone in my holding knew that I sometimes dealt with strange entities, and that it was best to just leave me alone if I seemed to be acting eccentrically.

Under the cover of the woods, the person I'd followed turned to face me. He was medium-tall, with a slender and wiry frame. His hair was long and dark, with his most striking facial features being high cheekbones and a pair of piercing green eyes.

"It has been a long time by the standards of your kind," he told me thoughtfully. "I wasn't sure if you would remember me."

"Oh, I know you," I replied coldly. In a world of shape-shifters and illusionists, sometimes identity is a question. But I had the other's scent. It stank unmistakably of lies.

With a snikt, I extended my claws. They gleamed in the dappled light that filtered through the boughs. I was fully prepared to kill this intruder and make the world - in fact, nine worlds - a far better place.

"I didn't come here to fight," Loki told me quietly. "I just want to talk."


	35. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 2

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 2

Centuries ago, Odin forbade his subjects to interfere in the affairs of Midgard. Yet there Loki stood, within shouting distance of my wives, my children, and the people of my holding.

"You say you want to talk?" I growled. "About what?"

"I need your help," Loki responded calmly.

That was when I laughed in a god's face and took a dangerous step in his direction. Just a few years ago, I slew one creature of ancient myth and legend. And while there is certainly a difference between a Prince of Asgard and the King of Svartaflheim, I was willing to test the limits of what was possible. According to legend, Loki was fated to die during Ragnarok, but sometimes legends are just words.

Loki simply held his hands away from his body, waiting for the lethal blow. His eyes didn't waver from mine. Much has been said about the Prince of Lies, but if any have called him a coward, then they were wrong.

"It's about Ingrid - and her child," Loki continued. "I am concerned."

I paused.

A long moment passed. Then, with a long sigh, I retracted my claws and lowered my hands.

"They are dead," I said gruffly. It was not the kind of news I enjoyed giving. Even to Loki.

"No, they are not," Loki disagreed.

I shook my head. "I was there when they died."

Loki paused. "Tell me," he said quietly.

* * *

I will never forget the days after the end of the final war against the Dark Elves.

Malekith was cut into seven pieces: head, chest, abdomen, arms, and legs. The pieces were then burned in separate fires fueled by ancient oak. The ashes were laced with silver dust and were eventually carried to secret places on the far edges of the world and scattered.

Most of the Dark Elf warriors were dead, but a few had managed to flee back home. That was fine - we needed some to live to tell the tale of Svartalfheim's second great disaster on Midgard.

On the other claw, we spared as many of the Dark Elves' slave-soldiers as possible. The former slaves gratefully swore their allegiance to new lords. Frankly, I was surprised at how well they took to their new home. What must Svartaflheim be like if those born and raised there were so eagerly grateful to be free of it?

The rites to honor the deaths of our fallen were properly conducted. That included those for Ancient Strange - finally passed from this world to whatever waits beyond for one such as he.

Yes, I brought Stephen Strange to the end of his many days. He lost his life defending us against the dark magics of Malekith himself. His courage and skill was vital to our victory.

I hope his shade can find some forgiveness for me.

It was no secret that I was no longer a seeker. After all, most Blood can sense that. Ronin - some of them so terribly young - were approaching me, offering to enter in my service. I told them that I had no lands to offer. I suggested they should instead offer their fealty to Shea.

But to some, that didn't seem to matter.

"We'll find new lands," Benjamin the Spider said as he knelt before me. Actually, that was something to consider. After all, I had a family to support.

I reached down and helped Benjamin to his feet. That made him my vassal and my samurai - the first I'd had in so very long. And that made me a landless master. I would have to do something about that.

But in the midst of the aftermath, the unwelcome question of Ingrid and her unborn child loomed before us.

* * *

_Rahne and I waited at the crossroads, not far from the shrines that flanked the road leading to the fort. Ingrid knelt between us, in the precise center of the crossroads. Her head was covered with a dark hood and her hands were bound behind her._

_Paradoxically, it was a bright and clear day. Too beautiful for what the day would hold._

_Four figures exited the front gate of the fort. They were Emma, Olivia, Cyrus the mage, and Victoria - the fort's Priestess of the Lady of Blades. They had the air about them of those burdened with a grim duty. I knew how they felt._

_Emma was in the full robes of a Priestess of the Lady of Fire. However, there was a small exception to the norm in her garb. Around Emma's neck was a pendant of some red gemstone, carved into the uneven crescent shape. If you knew what to look for, you could see it was actually a surrealistic representation of a bird. That was the only time I ever saw Emma wearing the seemingly innocous badge of the Graymalkin - the secret order within the Temple of Fire that concerns itself with the Phoenix prophecy. Perhaps I should have wondered why she was wearing that particular token._

_Olivia was back in the formal splint armor of a Storm-Priestess, although she was without a helm. She was carrying her hammer-headed polearm. Olivia was a tall woman, but her bright white mohawk seem to make her loom much taller than her companions._

_Victoria, the fort's Priestess of Blades, was dressed in black chainmail covered by a gray tabard. Her coal-black hair was bound into an efficient pony-tail. The drawn katana she was carrying was the holy blade of her shrine, sworn to all three Avatars of the Lady of Blades. The morning sunlight gleamed along the length of its watered steel._

_Cyrus seemed unarmed, but a mage is never really defenseless. The cloak of House Strange fluttered around his shoulders and his face was filled with regret. He carried a thick black book in the crook of one arm._

_The common people don't know about the law of abomination - except as a thing of frightened whispers. Yet somehow, everyone around us sensed that something terrible was happening. An unnatural silence fell as all conversation died. Mothers gathered up children and hurried away. The nearby Blood, Wilder, and Folk warriors began withdrawing. The samurai who were standing watch on the fort walls couldn't leave their posts, but they made gestures intended to ward off evil and turned their eyes away._

_The Temple's bell began to toll in a slow and steady beat. The sound was supposed to drive away evil spirits. After a moment, the fort's blacksmith joined in, ringing a hammer on his anvil. Throughout the fort and the surrounding encampment, other gongs and bells began to sound. Pots and pans were brought out and banged together. Folk and Wilder warriors clashed weapons and shields. Children - not knowing why, but eager to play along - pounded sticks against walls._

_The din wasn't loud, but it was steady and pervasive._

_In the dust of the road, the six of us - a former seeker, a newly-born seeker, a mage, and three priestesses of the temple goddesses - gathered together in a rough circle and gazed down at Ingrid._

_She looked very small. And under her hood, she was crying._

* * *

"You saw Ingrid die with your own eyes?" Loki insisted. "You touched her lifeless corpse? Smelled the foulness of her death?"

I nodded.

Loki looked puzzled. "And yet..." he said hesitantly, speaking more to himself than to me.

"What do you think you know, Loki?" I asked slowly.

Loki's green eyes seemed to coldly burn as he responded. "Sigmund, Laufey, and Ingrid were the last of my blood on Migard. Even through the haze of my father's edict, I knew the existence of their small lives. I sensed the beginning of new life in Ingrid's womb. And I felt the deaths of Sigmund and Laufey. Yet I have not felt the deaths of Ingrid and her child."

* * *

_Cyrus cast his spells of divination and knowledge. Afterwards, he really did not need to speak. The cold expression on his face told us what he had learned. However, the situation still demanded words._

_"It is as we fear," he told us regretfully. "The unborn is tainted."_

_The child within Ingrid had been concieved in rape and incest, within a ceremonial circle sworn to a power that was inimicable to all that lived. The chances that it would not be unclean were minimal, but there was always hope._

_Now that hope had been taken from us. The child was an abomination, a threat to everything. We could not allow it to live. The mother would also have to die. She had conceived one monster, she could conceive another._

_Laufey Sigmundson had bargained for - and received - ancient power, but it was his sister and their child who would pay the final price for his pride and arrogance._

_There was nothing to say. I had promised Emma that I would leave this issue to the Temple of the Three Goddesses. Frankly, I was relieved. That meant Ingrid's death was not my responsibility._

_Or - thank the Old One - Rahne's._

_Rahne and I moved away from Ingrid. Victoria wordlessly moved forward. Then she lightly tapped Ingrid on the side of the head with the tip of her weapon. That caused Ingrid to stiffen in alarm - and involuntarily lift her chin. That exposed her neck._

_I didn't need to look to know that Rahne, who had become so familiar with violence and death under my "protection", had closed her eyes. Her hand found mine._

_Victoria's blade became a silver blur as she swung it with all of her precise might..._

* * *

Loki listened as I finished the story, his eyes locked on mine.

"James-who-was-once-a-seeker," he told me, "you have been deceived."

Then he smiled. After all, every untruth ultimately honors him.

I said nothing as Loki turned and retreated deeper into the trees. There was no point in following him. His scent vanished almost immediately.

And besides, he had left me with far too much to consider.

Automatically, out of a habit born of long years as a seeker, I looked around me for a sign.

There was none.


	36. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 3

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 3

The feast of the Hidden Lady was done, although a few die-hard drinkers still persisted. I could hear their drunken singing out on the village commons.

I sat alone in my private chamber and gazed into the fireplace, watching the flames sway and dance. I told my wives that I would be indisposed and then left the celebration. Hopefully, the shade of my grandmother would understand.

My family and my people must have sensed my mood. I had no visitors.

Just before nightfall, I took two ancient fangs from a small box that I normally kept well-hidden. Then I used them to puncture a vein in my arm. They drank my blood as I made a silent call.

Exactly at midnight, my godmother visited me.

* * *

The flame in the fireplace seemed to shudder downwards as the shadows in the room lengthened.

"Twice in a decade, Jimmy?" an amused voice spoke from out of the darkest shadow. "Are you getting sentimental in your old age?"

I think I smiled at that.

"Hello, godmother," I said.

She appeared out of the darkness and sat in the chair next to mine. The Queen of the Vampires was dressed eccentrically in a dark yellow cloak and had the appearance of girl who was almost, but not quite, a woman. Except for her eyes, of course. Her eyes are ancient.

Actually, she's only a century-or-so older than me. And she was already a vampire when I was born. That's a long time and sometimes I wonder if she still remembers what it was like to be alive.

"Something's bothering you," she said as she leaned over, picked up a chunk of firewood, and tossed it onto the flames. That wasn't for her, of course. She does not require physical warmth, but she takes the "mother" part of "godmother" more seriously than you might think.

"I had a visitor, today," I said. "It was no less than Loki himself."

She sighed. "Let me guess: you talked and all of sudden there was a reason not to kill him."

That was strikingly accurate.

"Don't believe a thing he said," she told me very flatly.

"I think he spoke the truth," I replied. "Of course, it was to serve his own interests."

"About what?"

Once more, I told the story of Ingrid's death. This time I included Loki's commentary on it.

"Did Loki say what he wanted?" she asked. "I mean... other than to mess with you?"

"He asked for nothing except my account of what happened, but he's obviously trying to manipulate me into finding Ingrid. Thanks to Odin's decree, I think his powers on Midgard are limited. So he needs an agent."

My godmother nodded decisively. "Screw him. Now ring a bell or something, get your wives in here, and get all husbandly with them. I appreciate all of my new godchildren, but I want more."

I didn't respond to that.

"Oh," she said quietly, realizing what was wrong.

"Emma certainly lied to me," I replied. "Perhaps Olivia as well. Victoria had to be in on it, but that's not my concern."

She thought that over. "Even Emma isn't powerful enough to do a telepathic illusion that big on her own. She had to - at a minimum - fool you and Rahne, and both of you have senses even better than most Blood. And then there's anyone else who happened to be watching..."

"It seems likely that Cyrus helped," I interrupted suddenly.

She nodded. "Makes sense. When he cast his divination and detection spells to determine what was what with Ingrid and her baby, he could have snuck in a spell or two that made everyone more susceptible to misdirection and illusion. That would be a nicely tricky move."

"I suppose there is the possibility that the mages of House Strange acted on their own," I sighed.

My godmother shook her head. "Not likely. The mages and the priestesses either work together or avoid each other. There's too much that could go wrong for both sides if they got cross-wise with each other. And pulling off that big of a mental illusion is a lot trickier if one side or the other isn't part of the plot. Sorry, Jimmy, but it looks like Emma and Olivia have been naughty, naughty, girls."

I nodded, but said nothing. I could feel her eyes on me.

"Now what?" she asked.

"I'm considering my options," I said.

My godmother gave me a long and serious look before replying. "Let me make a suggestion: get Emma and Olivia in here, tell them you know what they did, let them explain why, give them both a sound spanking, and then have them spend the rest of the night giving you bilateral blowjobs. After that, forgive them, forget it, and get on with your life. Oh... and the hell with what Loki wants."

"For the Old One's sake, Jubilation! When did you become in favor of that kind of discipline?"

She snorted. "I'm the Queen of the Vampires, remember? You won't believe how hard I have to ride those idiots. You think you have a problem with people lying to you? There are vampires out there who have never told me a single damn truth in all of the centuries I've dealt with them. Dracula used to handle that by ripping out tongues and nailing them to the foreheads of the liars. But eventually I found out that ritual humiliation in front of a crowd of their peers worked better. It turns out that vampires are an incredible pack of status-queens. Which reminds me - when you're dealing with Emma and Olivia, have Anna watch. Emma and Olivia will hate that and it will be a good warning to Anna."

I shook my head, "I will do no such thing."

Jubes sighed, "Jimmy, you're maybe a little too much in love with your ladies."

"Your criticism is noted - and I concede your point."

That made her laugh. "So how can I help? Especially since you aren't listening to anything I suggest?"

"Before I have it out with Emma, I want to know what happened and why."

"That's reasonable - and smart," she agreed.

"And that means I need to know what happened to Ingrid," I added.

"That's unreasonable and dumb," she countered. "You're back to doing what Loki wants."

I shrugged in exasperation, "I don't see how I can find out what really happened without discovering Ingrid's fate."

She considered that. "Yep. That bastard has you over a barrel."

"He's good at that."

"Tell me again, why didn't we kill him after the Ratatosk incident?"

"He offered to save the refugees. And he did."

My godmother sighed. "That sneaky little jerk. So I suppose I'm back to asking you how I can help?"

"I need to talk to the Black Widows. You're the only person I know who can contact them."

She gave me a long look. "You're kidding."

I shook my head.

"You don't have a way to contact them because they avoid you like the plague and hate you like... like... hell, there aren't words for how much they hate you! You fought a war that almost destroyed them! They use your name to frighten their daughters!"

"That was a long time ago and I had just cause. An assassin cult has no place ruling ordinary people. Their approach to politics is simply too uncompromising and final. They just stack up bodies like cordwood."

"After you killed the high-mistress, you banged her successor!" my godmother choked out. "That was just adding insult to injury!"

"Also a long time ago. And while that story is true, elements are exaggerated. My... interaction... with the new high-mistress was necessary to get a peace-treaty. We had to disprove the myth of what happens to any male with whom a Widow mates. Some of the more conservative and patriarchal factions of the anti-Widow alliance refused to make peace as long as they believed that was true. And we were most certainly not in love - that part is minstrel nonsense."

My godmother rubbed her eyes tiredly. It's a remarkably human gesture on her part.

"Okay, there's a Widow cell in Nyagra. I'll send word that the local mistress should contact you."

I blinked in surpise. "A cell-mistress and her brood are living that near?"

My godmother gave me a long and level look, "They fear, hate, and avoid you, remember? A lot of effort goes into making sure you never hear anything about them."

I couldn't help but smile. There are some people who you want to be frightened of you.

"Why do you want to talk to them?" she asked curiously.

I took a moment to consider my answer. "Because I need someone who is completely and irrevocably separated from the Temple and the mages. I don't want word getting out that I'm asking awkward questions. Emma and Olivia didn't do this on their own - they had orders from someone higher up - I suspect the Graymalkin."

A wry smile quirked across her face. "Then you're going to the right people. The Widows are just as secretive, vicious, and full of themselves as the Graymalkin. And that's part of the reason you're crazy to deal with them."

"I'll take my chances with that," I said. "After all, I'm already dealing with Loki - and Rahne and I killed his many-times-great grandson just a few years ago. I'm sure he hasn't forgotten that."

* * *

Behind us, the door pushed open.

It was May, wearing a white night-dress. She had Oliver in her arms - he was also dressed for bed. Since he was about half her size, she had an awkward hold around his lower chest, and his feet were about a foot off the floor. He was struggling, but was obviously not using his full strength. Actually, he seemed to be enjoying the conflict.

"Sorry, daddy, Oliver was trying to..." May began. Then she stopped and her eyes went wide.

"Gamma!" she yelled in delight. Behind her, her tail swished excitedly.

Dangling from May's arms, Oliver chortled and waved with both hands. He was old enough to speak, but words had not yet come to him.

My godmother got out of her chair, knelt, and held her arms open. "C'mere, sweeties!" she called.

Both children more-or-less slammed full tilt into Jubes' arms and she hugged them tight. Getting up, with May and Oliver still clutched close, she sat back down in her chair. May began an excited recitation of everything - literally everything - that had happened since she'd last seen her beloved godmother.

Oliver just settled into his godmother's lap. Jubilation rythmically ran a long-nailed hand through his hair as she listened to May's chatter. Within a few seconds, Oliver was peacefully asleep.


	37. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 4

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 4

The next day, I told my family and vassals that I would be visiting Nyagra. Benjamin and Gant were to accompany me.

That actually fit into existing plans. I'd already decided to discuss certain issues with the grain factors of Nyagra. The region had enjoyed several good harvests in a row and the factors were trying to control prices by refusing to accept all of the grain that we and others in the region were trying to ship. Many of my fellow lords were angry with their easy assurance that we had to play their monopolistic game. Actually, I was irritated as well.

Anna had furiously described the situation as follows: "It's bullshit, and we shouldn't have to put up with it."

I agreed with Anna. After calming down some hot-headed suggestions by my neighboring lords (and one of my wives - guess who) that Nyagra should be sacked and burned, I convinced my neighbors to threaten something that was superficially more peaceful, but was actually far worse for Nyagra. If our business was not treated more respectfully, then we would form a cooperative, ship our own grain westward, and the factors could kiss our collective asses as they begged for coppers in the streets.

So while in Nyagra, I would present my plans - dealing with both the immediate issue, and some of my more long-term schemes. That would also give me the chance I needed to converse with our friendly, neighborhood, assassin's guild.

Benjamin, Gant, and I left just after dawn. My family saw me off.

Perhaps I was imagining it, but Emma seemed distant.

* * *

Benjamin and I were on horseback. Gant trudged alongside us. With his long legs, he can cover a remarkable amount of ground without the benefit of a riding beast - not that there was a horse born that could carry him.

I was dressed as befitted a minor lord. Benjamin was in leather armor and a chain shirt, with two short swords in back-sheaths, their hilts projecting over his shoulders. Gant was wearing his usual ragged pair of tattered canvas pants and his favorite bear-skin cloak.

"So what is this really about?" Benjamin eventually asked me. The man is strikingly perceptive.

Benjamin is one of the wallcrawlers - also called the Spider-Folk. His appearance is unremarkable, although he is quite wiry and shockingly powerful for his size and build. I first met him under less than happy circumstances, but he eventually became a friend and was one of my pack when I killed Malekith. He also became my first follower after I ceased to be a seeker, and has always been my senior samurai. His wife is a member of Rahne's pack.

I trust him without question.

Like many wallcrawlers, Benjamin has a strange sense for danger that even the Blood can't quite match. He's also very intelligent and not afraid to ask questions that have to be asked. Benjamin is loyal and deadly with his swords, but those weren't the only reasons he was my senior samurai.

Gant's ears pricked up after Benjamin asked his question, but otherwise he didn't react.

"As I've said, we will be talking to the factors in Nyagra," I replied, "but I will also be contacted by somebody from the Black Widows."

Benjamin looked at me for several seconds before he spoke again.

"If you want someone dead, I can handle it for you," he responded mildly.

"Who are the Black Widows?" Grant asked curiously.

"A pack of female assassins," Benjamin told him. "They're mostly Folk and Scatter, but also some Wilder. By all accounts, they're a nasty and dangerous bunch. And if the stories are true, they have reason to hate our boss."

Gant nodded, veered slightly off-course, and yanked a young tree out of the ground. Gant was big even for a troll - a towering mass of horribly ugly muscle and bone. He'd once been a slave to the dark elves, but came into my service after the war. I also trust him a great deal - for one thing, his mind was simply not built for duplicity.

As Gant began yanking boughs from the tree - he was fashioning a troll-sized tetsubo - I looked back at Benjamin. "I don't intend to kill anyone..."

Benjamin smiled.

"...but I need the Widows to find something for me. That requires an organization with a long arm and a talent for keeping their mouths shut."

With a frown, Benjamin asked, "You want them to find something? Do they do that? Everyone talks about the Widows as if they're just killers."

"They're that," I agreed, "but they're also spies, saboteurs, investigators, instigators, and kidnappers - among other things."

"They're professional assholes," Benjamin suggested.

"Yes. And they're really good at it."

Benjamin nodded. "Pardon me, but if this trip involves meeting a bunch of assassins who hate you, why the hell aren't we travelling with twenty of our samurai?"

"If we did that, everyone will know that I'm doing more than just talking about crops and money with the factors. I need to keep this quiet. And the Widows know it would be unwise to do injury to me. There is a treaty that is very much in their interests to honor. And they have to consider the possibility that if they kill me, Rahne just might decide the treaty has been violated and call for another war."

"Perhaps Gant and I should have a plan to kill anyone we meet - just in case," Benjamin proposed.

"Yes."

"Okay," Benjamin said with a calm nod.

"Always do that anyway," Gant grunted as he hefted his huge club.

* * *

Over a century ago, a gigantic Creed raid slashed through the region that spanned from Nyagra to Roche, killing thousands and destroying the hard work of generations before it was finally halted. The region has never fully recovered. The village I'd founded was built on the ruins of another village that had been wiped out in that war. The village had been named Ashe. I kept the name and it was now my place-title.

"Please! Please, Lord Ashe! Let's discuss this matter further!" begged the most reasonable of the factors. He was visibly nervous. He was also smart enough to know what would happen if my neighbors and I decided to bypass them.

I looked at the faces of the five factors - the elders of the Folk and Wilder families who more-or-less ruled the town of Nyagra. Some of them hadn't realized the danger of what I was threatening. At least not at the moment.

"Actually, there is one more thing to consider," I said. "If my part of the valley can put together our own wagon trains and boat convoys... then perhaps, instead of replacing your enterprises, we could become an adjunct to them. We could expand our reach to new markets and better serve existing ones. I imagine the additional profits would be considerable, even if they had to be split more ways."

Two of the five factors suddenly looked thoughtful. The other three were completely suspicious.

"What 'new markets'?" scoffed one of the uninterested faces.

"Roche and Syra," I said.

A babble of hostile responses broke out.

"We don't produce enough grain to regularly supply those towns - the current glut of grain is an anomaly," pointed out the youngest factor. He struck me as sharper than the rest. Or perhaps he was just more willing to consider untraditional ideas.

"An additional supply of grain will be available from the region east of Lock," I replied calmly.

"There's nothing there!" a scoffing factor shot back heatedly. "The villages there were lost long ago! And that area is now rife with Creed!"

"My fellow lords and I plan to form vassal villages in the area," I responded. "There's also an old copper mine in the region. It was producing ore right up until the Creed War. I'll have some Folk mining engineers from Delphi - guarded by my samurai - investigate the old mine within the month, but initial reports from my scouts look good."

"We've heard nothing of this," the most reasonable factor said slowly, his eyes meeting mine as he tried to judge the truth of what I was saying.

"The first vassal village will be built in the early spring," I replied. "It will be protected by a war-band culled from the samurai of six local lords - including myself. That band will be far larger than any we could individually put together, while still leaving us with adequate samurai and supporting forces to protect our holdings. The new village should harvest its first crop next fall. After that, we will wait two years until we form the second village. In between, we will conduct raiding and patrolling operations into the Creed territory east of Lock and immediately south of the Ont Sea, killing Creed warriors and rescuing any slaves they've taken. The goal will be to stabilize the trail between Nyagra and Roch, it's far too dangerous right now."

"And?" the youngest factor said when I was done.

He and I locked eyes. He didn't look away and thus he found his way onto the list of those whom I should make into an ally.

"The Creed in this region have been allowed to flourish for too long," I continued flatly. "It is time to heed the will of the Old One and exterminate them."

The factors were somewhere between fascinated and horrified. The future was coming, and they just didn't realize how fast it was arriving. If what I was saying was true, then their comfortable old world was ending before their eyes. It was only natural that they didn't want it to be true.

"I and my fellow lords will cooperate with anyone who wants to work with us," I finished. "It is not neccesary for all - or any of you - to participate."

The factors stirred uneasily. Some of them shot glances at their fellows.

"Consider my words. If you want to make a counter-offer, have it ready by tomorrow," I said as I got to my feet.

When I left, three of the factors were definitely interested.

The other two would hopefully come to their senses soon.

* * *

Nyagra is located at the junction of two of the great inner seas, and is famous for a huge set of nearby water-falls that are located on the river that connects the two seas. To the north, across the Ont sea, are the titanic ruins of Tronto. In the great war between the Folk and the Wilder - the event that led to the rise of the Blood - Tronto was razed with weapons that burned and fused the ground itself, while the great steel and glass towers of the city center were left resembling nothing so much as half-melted candles. Tronto is now a demon-haunted place, populated by monsters, and wandering bands of Creed and half-crazed Blood. Their primary occupation seems to be to kill each other with wild glee. The seas nearby are filled with pirates and yet more monsters, which are a constant threat to the trade that is the life-blood of Nyagra. Nyagra has no choice but to fight the constant savage overflow from the north. The town militia is quite competent and the nearby Blood lords are more allies than threats to either Nyagra or each other.

There are other places like Tronto scattered around the globe. Why some of the ancient Folk cities were so brutally eliminated, while others survive to this day, is unknown. The strategists who made those decisions are long gone.

Like most of the large urban centers, about half of the population of Nyagra is Folk. The remaining half is split between Wilder and Blood. Towns tend to swap around the population distribution of the countryside. In the more rural areas, the population is predominately Blood by a good margin, with Folk being the second largest group, and Wilder a distant third. Many Blood find towns disconcerting. "Drowning in Folk," is a common phrase of distaste that Blood use to describe a trip to town.

Nyagra and the local Blood lords were more used to working together than is normal. The looming threat of Tronto and it's devil-spawn, and the many bands of Creed remnants, force that reality upon them. They weren't united, and there were very real differences between town and holdings, as well as between the Blood lords, but they were all unusually willing to cooperate.

If Nyagra and the local Blood lords were to somehow became truly united, they would be a formidable regional power.

* * *

As a local lord, I couldn't just camp in the wilderness any longer. Frankly, I missed that, but there was a room waiting for us at the inn. Gant would have to sleep in the stables. Fortunately, he was good with horses - once he convinced them that he didn't plan on eating them.

A Folk prostitute accosted Benjamin, Gant, and I as we walked towards the inn. The woman was a short-haired blonde with pleasing features, probably no more than twenty-five years old. She was wearing the easily unbuttoned tunic of her guild, and at the moment all of the buttons were undone and she was holding her tunic shut.

"My lord," she said softly, her eyes cast down, as she allowed her tunic to fall open. She was wearing nothing underneath - unless you counted some erotic bodypaint. I understand that fashion started among the guild-ladies of Bost. Over the last few years, the fashion has been steadily spreading its way westward.

A stray ronin on the far side of the street whistled appreciatively at the sight. Gant looked slightly surprised and disapproving. He doesn't approve of women selling their bodies. Proper trollish courtship involves gift-giving, feats of strength, and a long poetic description of your sexual prowess.

"We appreciate the show," Benjamin told the young woman, "but his lordship and I are..."

Then Benjamin paused. He'd seen it, too.

"Give the girl a coin, Benjamin, and have her follow us," I said quietly.

Benjamin reached for his pouch.

Amidst the brightly-colored pornography scrawled over the prostitute's bare body, a stylized symbol of a black spider with a red hour-glass on its midsection had been inked onto one of her breasts.

The Order of the Black Widow had found us.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some notes on geography (I've received some requests for clarifications). A map of New York state would be useful to review the places and names.
> 
> Like the previous story, the action in "The Serpent's Tooth" takes place mostly in modern New York state, with some references to surrounding regions.
> 
> Lake Ontario is called the Ont Sea - or simply 'the Ont'. The waters and shoreline of the Ont Sea are infested with radiation-spawned monsters that are relentlessly puked out of the ruins of Tronto.
> 
> Unmentioned in the story so far is the Ire Sea, which is Lake Erie.
> 
> Nyagra is located roughly in the location of current-day Niagara Falls. Actually, it's a bit further east from the falls than the modern town.
> 
> Tronto is Toronto, Canada. My apologies to any of my Canadian readers for the gruesome fate I have inflicted upon that no-doubt wonderful city.
> 
> Roche is Rochester, New York and Syra is Syracuse, New York. Both are on the shore of the Ont Sea. There is an ugly and brutally uncivilized gap between those two towns and Nyagra.
> 
> The town of Lock is modern-day Lockport - a smallish and (despite the name) inland town located west of Niagara Falls. The village of Ashe is located in that area and has no modern analog. Ashe and the farmland around it are controlled by James (a.k.a. James Howlett III, a.k.a. James-Who-Was-Once-A-Seeker, a.k.a. James Malekith's End, a.k.a. Lord Ashe). There are five other regional Lords who have their holdings in the region around Lock. They are essentially a bulwark between a nasty Creed infestation and the towns of Nyagra and Buff. Those six lords are slowly, but surely, beginning to organize into something greater. Each is sure it's his own idea, but only one of them is right. Guess who that is.
> 
> The region centered on modern-day Albion and Medina is a major Creed holdout - a remnant of a decades-gone outbreak of Creed. Nobody has been able to regain control of the region for a hundred years. That might change in a little while.
> 
> The city of Buffalo exists and is called Buff. I was going to use it in this story, but no matter how hard I tried, a compressed place-name like "Buff" of "Buflo" just plain looked stupid when I tried to put it in a story. So it's there, but I'm not doing much with it.
> 
> I've never traveled to any of those places - except via Google maps - so please accept my apologies if I got something wrong.
> 
> Elsewhere:
> 
> Alban is the location of Albany, New York.
> 
> Cats Kill is Catskill.
> 
> The Point is West Point.
> 
> Nyack is (big surprise) New York - specifically the island of Manhattan.
> 
> Delphi is Philadelphia
> 
> Washton is Washington D.C.
> 
> The Huds river is the Hudson River.


	38. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 5

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 5

"I have word from my mistress," the assassin told me.

We were in our room on the second floor of the local inn. Gant was so large that he couldn't even enter the inn's common room. He was outside, sitting next to the front door, his back propped up against the wall as he enjoyed a bucket of ale.

Off in the distance, we could hear the unending roar of the falls. You're never far from that noise when in Nyagra.

The assassin disguised as a prostitute was kneeling as she faced us - for some reason, assassin cults seem to enjoy feigned humility. She had closed her tunic, but the buttons at the top and bottom were still undone, so she was displaying her very appealing legs and a 'v' of painted skin from her shoulders down to between her breasts. That's a common-enough trick of attractive assassins. The theory seems to be that we men-folk will get so fixated on any show of feminine flesh that we will helplessly drop our guard. Actually, that does work, but not all of the time. During the Black Widow War, the Widows lost several assassins who tried that trick on me. It got to the point that I simply assumed any under-dressed female I encountered was actually trying to kill me.

"And what does your mistress have to say for herself?" I asked.

The assassin smiled serenely. "Her precise words are this: 'I am required to contact you. I have contacted you. Now get the fuck out of my town.'"

Benjamin choked down a laugh.

I scratched my chin. "That's really quite rude."

"You are responsible for the deaths of both of her grandmothers and one of her great-grandmothers," the assassin explained.

I looked at Benjamin. "How many assassins have you spotted?" I asked.

He didn't hesitate. "The girl selling bread out on the street. An older woman disguised as a traveler - she's having a drink in the common room downstairs. The two so-called 'wives' of that Blood ranger who's selling venison to the innkeeper. There's also somebody on the roof, but I don't have a particularly good feel for that. How about you?"

I nodded thoughtfully. "The killers on the roof are a pair of over-excited young girls - Widow-apprentices. In my opinion, they're too young for an operation like this. There's also a woman with a compound bow on the second-floor of the building across the street. She's watching us right now."

Benjamin frowned as he glanced out the window of our room. "Dammit, I'm getting old," he grumbled as he waved to the assassin on the other side of the street. The shadowy window that the assassin was hiding behind suddenly seemed to become rather disgruntled.

The kneeling assassin was doing a commendable job of keeping a straight face. Unfortunately for her, like many Blood I'm quite good at reading people by triggers other than facial expressions and body language. Her scent indicated that she was becoming more than a little alarmed.

"What's your take on her?" Benjamin asked as he pointed a thumb at the assassin.

"She's probably the youngest and prettiest full-assassin of her cell," I answered. "They're the ones who are inclined to disguise themselves as courtesans - and dealing with the issues involved is normally considered a rite-of-passage by senior Widows. She has contact poison on her lips and more under her fingernails. Also, she has a dagger adhered to the small of her back and a pair of throwing stars on each of her shoulder-blades. They're most likely also poisoned."

Benjamin raised an eyebrow. "Poison on her lips? How does that work?"

I glanced at the woman. "Care to handle that one?"

The assassin looked at me for a long moment before replying to Benjamin. "As a part of our training, we're exposed to the poison in small doses until we develop a tolerance. It takes about a decade."

"You can literally kill with a kiss?" Benjamin persisted.

The kneeling assassin rolled her eyes. "It hinders rather than kills. We use it to disable the target. It also works most efficiently if you apply it to... somewhere else... than a man's lips. Are you two finished showing off?"

"Almost," I answered. "The fact you brought two apprentices along means your mistress has deployed all available resources. However, we've spotted you, so any conflict between us will be an open brawl - a battle instead of a nice, orderly, and neat assassination. Maybe you'll win that fight. Maybe you'll lose. But no matter what, you will lose sisters, and perhaps lose everyone. That's not how the Widows like to work."

The assassin didn't say anything, but I caught a sudden spike of fear from her.

I glanced at Benjamin. "She's trying to decide if it's possible to injure the two of us so badly that the other Widows can finish us off without taking losses."

Benjamin shrugged. "She wouldn't survive," he pointed out.

"She's a good Widow, so that's not the point. If I had to make a guess, she's particularly worried about the fate of the two youngsters on the roof."

"It's rude to talk about somebody as if they aren't there," the assassin noted.

"You shouldn't have brought the two kids along," Benjamin told her.

"Look, just what do you two assholes want?" she snarled. By then she had the dangerous eyes of someone who has decided that their death was probably both inevitable and necessary.

"I don't want a fight," I told her. "I do want to talk to your cell-mistress - who is almost certainly the older woman downstairs. So let's pay her a visit."

* * *

The cell-mistress looked more than a little disgusted when we sat down at her table. Then she gave the assassin with us a hard look.

The ranger and his two wives were enjoying a drink at a table across the room. Through an open window, I could see the woman who was selling bread. Another woman - carrying a long bundle - had joined her. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to us. Of course.

"They spotted us," the younger assassin reported quietly. "If we'd fought, it would not have been to our advantage. We would have lost sisters."

The cell-mistress considered that, and then shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to me.

I honestly wasn't sure how much of the cell-mistresses appearance was really her and how much was a disguise. She looked like she was approaching crone-hood, but her scent was younger. Of course, a hard life and strict training would have kept her in good shape.

"What's your name?" I asked the younger assassin. I was coming to the conclusion that I needed to know her - she was smart, able to think on her feet, and willing to risk the ire of her mistress if she felt it served the best interests of her sisters.

"Jessica," she replied shortly. Perhaps that wasn't true, but it would do.

I didn't bother to ask the cell-mistress her name. There were no bridges to be built there.

"Can I buy you a drink?" the cell-mistress asked Benjamin and I.

"Not on your life," Benjamin chuckled. I just shook my head. The cell-mistress smiled coldly.

"I assume you received my message," the cell-mistress said as she took another sip of her wine.

Outside, I heard a sudden ruckus. Gant roared and a pair of young-sounding female voices seemed to be screeching about something. The cell-mistress frowned and glanced at her younger counterpart. Jessica got to her feet and walked out the door.

"I received your message," I told her, "and under normal circumstances I would have probably respected it. However, I need something done and I have a means of payment that I believe you will find more than acceptable."

"There's not enough wealth in this world that would make me - or any other Widow - do anything for you," the cell-mistress responded almost amiably.

"I can tell you where high-mistress Tonya is buried," I said.

The cell-mistress had been about to take another drink. The wine-cup paused halfway to her mouth as she began to stare at me.

One of her eyes twitched very slightly. Outside, the racket was still going on.

"Perhaps it is time for the high-mistress to return home to her mothers, sisters, and daughters," I continued contemplatively. "Then she could be buried with her fellow high-mistresses in a manner appropriate to her station. Even more importantly, the rites that protect her soul from hell of the Red Room could then be properly performed. Mind you, I think Tonya was a terrible high-mistress: she sought worldly power, provoked a war with the Blood, and almost got the Order of the Black Widow annihilated. More sisters died under her reign than any other high-mistress, before or since. However, that is ultimately a matter for historians to ponder. In the meantime, getting her body back would fulfill the oath to obey, defend, and serve that all Black Widows swear to their high-mistresses."

The cell-mistress was still frozen as she looked at me. Except for her one eye. It twitched again.

"What say you?" I asked carefully.

The cell-mistress put her cup down, and then nodded her head once.

Gant stuck his head and shoulders inside the doorway of the inn. He was holding a young and dark-skinned Folk girl up in the air by the scruff of the neck. Her arms and legs were wind-milling wildly as she futilely battered at Gant with feet and fists. Meanwhile, another Folk girl was riding on Gant's back, stabbing wildly at him with a dagger. Gant didn't even seem to notice.

Jessica was nearby. She had a hand over her eyes.

"These two poisoned my ale!" Gant announced indignantly.

The cell-mistress closed her eyes and took a long, deep, breath.

* * *

We had to talk in private, so we adjourned to a warehouse just outside the town wall. The workers in the warehouse promptly left when the Widows entered.

The two young Widow-apprentices were obviously twins. They were dark-skinned, but had yellow-brown eyes that were odd for Folk. They were perhaps twelve years old. By ancient tradition, the Widows often adopt orphans into their ranks. The cell-mistress identifies as their mother. Their fellow assassins become their sisters.

"We're sorry, Mr. Gant," the two child-Widows chorused together.

"Tell him what you're sorry for," Jessica ordered sternly. She was standing between them, with a firm hand on each of their shoulders.

"We're sorry we tried to kill you, Mr. Gant," the two youngsters said in unison.

"You poisoned my ale!" Gant said, his voice filled with uncomprehending tragedy. "Ale! You poisoned ale! How could you do such a thing?!"

Benjamin patted Gant on the small of his considerable back. "They're just kids, Gant. They don't know any better. And besides, you drank it anyway."

"It tasted terrible!" Gant protested.

"Now tell me what you are sorry for," the cell-mistress ordered.

"Mistress, we're sorry we exceeded orders," one of the two girls said.

"But we saw a chance...", the other girl began.

The cell-mistress sternly slapped the dissenting girl.

"I'm sorry, mistress," the slapped girl said miserably.

The cell-mistress raised her hand again.

"Once is a lesson. Twice means nothing," Gant announced suddenly.

The cell-mistress glanced coldly at Gant. Then she slapped the girl once more.

A low growl came out of Gant's throat. Benjamin hastily put a hand on his arm. Gant subsided, but he still looked dangerously unhappy.

Ignoring Gant, the cell-mistress turned to me. "What do you need done?" she asked.

I began telling her a carefully edited version of the tale of Ingrid's death.


	39. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 6

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 6

Three days had passed since our meeting with the Widows, but we were still in Nyagra. My days were mostly filled with additional rounds of talks with the factors. The factors had cautiously accepted my proposals and on that basis we were settling various details. In the meantime, I was communicating with my fellow lords by Angel messenger. The combined force of samurai, auxiliaries, and settlers that would establish the first of the vassal villages was being assembled.

Olivia was overseeing my part of that. Her presence was untraditional, but I didn't think there would be a problem. A Storm-Hammer of Lady Ororo commands respect from both the martial- and religious-minded, so her words would carry weight among both my fellow lords and their wives, priestesses, and samurai advisors. And once anyone got to know Olivia, they inevitably realized two things: she was quite intelligent and it would be really stupid to cross her.

"Those two little girls are still following us," Benjamin observed.

"Yes," I agreed. "Call them over."

Benjamin put his fingers to his lips and let out a piercing whistle. Then he made a "come here" gesture towards a particular alleyway.

After a moment's hesitation, two brown faces with yellowish eyes peered out of the mouth of the alley. The girls seemed surprised.

"Let's get something to eat," I called to them.

The girls looked at each other. This situation probably wasn't covered in their training.

"If you're having a meal with us, than you certainly know where we are and what we're doing," Benjamin pointed out.

"But don't poison anything!" Gant growled.

* * *

The two girls were named Samantha and Sophie. They were cautiously nibbling at some bread and cheese as they sat with us in the courtyard of our inn. Our table was one of several next to one of the courtyard walls.

"Why are you following us?" Benjamin asked as he finished off a mug of ale.

"Because we were told to follow you," Samantha replied immediately. I could only tell the difference between the two because Samantha had a tiny mole under her left eye. Otherwise, they were identical. Even their scent was the same.

Their yellow-brown eyes indicated that they had some Creed blood in them. That was not uncommon in this region. It was a leftover from a long-ago large Creed raid. The Creed do not treat captured females as anything other than as objects of amusement and a means of breeding more of their kind. Some of the resulting children don't become full-Creed, and if rescued have a chance of fitting into Blood society - although it isn't a good one. Some ancestor of the girls must have been one of the lucky ones.

Benjamin shrugged, "That's certainly a reasonable answer. Are you supposed to kill us at some point?"

Sophie quickly shook her head. She seemed to be less inclined to speak than her sister.

"How long has it been since your mistress took you in?" I asked as I cut an apple in half and handed it to the girls. Folk and Wilder children require more of that sort of thing in their diet than Blood children.

Samantha frowned for a moment before answering. "Momma sold us to the mistress about three years ago."

Sophie nodded in energetic agreement.

"Killed anyone yet?" Gant asked. He was sitting on the ground next to our table.

Samantha hesitated before answering. "There was someone last year. He wanted to touch us. I told him no and he didn't like that. He grabbed Sophie."

Sophie swallowed a piece of apple and then used a finger to draw a very final-appearing line across her throat.

"He had it coming," Gant said with a shrug. I had to agree with his assessment.

That was when Jessica walked in the door. This time, she was dressed as an ordinary Folk female on her way to market - she was even carrying a shopping basket. As she approached us, she gave Samantha and Sophie a stern look that suggested that there would eventually be a conversation concerning proper surveillance technique. The two girls looked sheepish.

Jessica bowed deeply in my direction. I gestured to an empty stool at our table and she sat down. Benjamin signaled a barmaid. She brought over a clean mug and poured an ale for Jessica from the pitcher on our table. Jessica held up a hand to ensure that she only got half a cup.

"Back to work," Jessica quietly told the girls. They scrambled to their feet, grabbed some spare bread, and then vanished out the gate.

"Please don't make friends with them, Lord Ashe," Jessica told me. "The mistress will beat them if she finds out."

"She'll beat them no matter what," Gant said after swallowing a huge slice of roast pumpkin. "She has the madness. You can see it in her eyes."

Jessica made no response to that. She just drank her ale.

"Do you have news?" I asked.

"If it serves the will of your lordship, the mistress will meet you in Potter's Court, an hour after sunset."

"That is agreeable," I replied.

"Yes, my lord," Jessica said. Then she finished her ale, got to her feet, bowed once again, and withdrew.

Benjamin closely watched her leave.

"You know what she is?" I asked him.

Benjamin slowly nodded his head, his eyes were on mine.

"Do what you feel is right," I told him.

* * *

Potter's Court was next to the market and had once been where the pot-makers of Nyagra sold their wares. Over the years, buildings had clustered together and the spaces between them were walled off or otherwise filled in. Then the potter's market moved closer to the city gate. Now, Potter's Court was an enclosed irregular square of two-story structures and their connecting walls. The buildings were almost all residences and there were only two ways in and out of the court. It was also poorly lit and the inhabitants were destitute enough that they minded their own business and didn't expect much from the authorities.

All in all, it was a good place for a discreet meeting - or an ambush.

I almost didn't recognize the cell-mistress. This time, her appearance was now more matronly than elderly, and she was dressed in a manner suggestive of the wife of some prosperous holder. I estimated her age to be in her late-forties. She had obviously once been a notable beauty, but some of that was now gone. However, the problem wasn't really age. Gant was right, there was something cruel and quite possibly mad about her. It was even a part of her scent - an acidity that was her humanity being eroded away.

I didn't want to kill her. Not because her death would be any great loss, but because that would almost surely mean we'd have to kill the remainder of her cell. Calling them "innocent" would be an insult to the word, but none of them really had any choice about the path they were walking. And some struck me as salvageable.

"The woman you seek is indeed alive," the cell-mistress reported. "She was transported to the Point just a few days after her faked execution. She was held in the temple there for about a week, and was then sent north with an escorting force of acolytes and temple guardsmen. At the village of Cats Kill, she was handed over to a priestess of the Storm goddess named Dare. From there, they headed further north to the village of Alban. The woman is now part of the temple staff in Alban. She has a child of about the age you mentioned."

That all sounded very right. Dare was the Storm priestess of the Alban temple, and we'd met once before. Actually, I should have guessed that she had custody of Ingrid. Emma and Dare were colleagues and friends and had connections to the more secretive - and dangerous - elements of their respective orders. And back when Emma was playing the role of a common temple servant, Dare had known her secret and made use of her talents. They obviously trusted each other. If Emma needed help, Dare was her most likely choice for an ally.

My already high opinion of the intelligence-gathering ability of the Widows went up a notch. It was remarkable that they had been able to gather so much information in just three days. It was extremely suggestive of the resources available to the Black Widow network.

In fact, it was alarmingly suggestive. Not for the first time, I wondered if perhaps I should have wiped out the Black Widows back when I had the chance. At the time, I felt it was better to simply eliminate high-mistress Tonya and break that generation of Widows away from her dreams of power. And besides, the ancient connection between the Old One and the Black Widows had to be considered. According to an obscure passage of the Traditions, the first Widow had addressed the Old One as "little uncle."

"Do you have any idea why the temple decided to keep the woman alive?" I asked.

The cell-mistress opened her arms and bowed slightly. "No, my lord. We could investigate further, but the temple is a dangerous target. Your interest in the matter might be discovered and I understand that you do not want that."

Reaching inside my jacket, I pulled out a soft leather document case and handed it to the cell-mistress.

"A map and a written description of landmarks identifying the location of high-mistress Tonya's grave," I explained to cell-mistress. She tried to hide her feelings, but I knew her true reaction. She accepted the case as if I'd given her the keys to the world.

The cell-mistress took a long breath and let it out slowly. Then she nodded her head.

"Then our business is complete," the cell-mistress said.

"Not quite," Benjamin said. "We want to hire one of your cell as a travelling companion. Her skills might be useful."

I didn't react to what Benjamin had said. It was unplanned, but my senior samurai had every right to make certain decisions on his own.

The cell-mistress studied Benjamin. "I assume you mean Jessica?"

Benjamin nodded.

"She is not available," the cell-mistress responded coldly.

Something went still in Benjamin. The cell-mistress recognized it and her eyes narrowed. Beside us, Gant stiffened. Within Potter's court, shadows seemed to shift as owls suddenly called back and forth.

Gant began turning his head, no longer hiding the fact that he was tracking the assassins surrounding us. He speculatively hefted his giant club.

"I will pay generously for Jessica and the two girls," I interrupted.

"You have nothing left to bargain with," the cell-mistress told me. She didn't look away from Benjamin as she spoke. Violence was just a heart-beat away.

"That grave holds high-mistress Tonya's body," I said, "but not her weapons and other treasures."

That actually broke the cell-mistress' attention away from Benjamin. However, he kept his eyes on her.

I pulled a woman's ring out of my breast-pocket and flipped it towards the cell-mistress. The ruby set in the ring flickered in the torchlight as it spun. The cell-mistress caught the ring in mid-air and then held it up for a better view.

"The Widow's Eye..." she whispered in amazement as she gazed into the ring's stone.

"Returning the corpse of the high-mistress to the Black Widows is a great deed," I told her. "But how will you be rewarded if you place the lost trappings of the Order before high-mistress Cecily? The Widows will honor you for your deed in finding Tonya, but Cecily herself will place the Widow's Stings around her wrists after you hand them to her. That's the sort of deed that makes a high-mistress consider the name of her successor."

The cell-mistress just stared at me. You could almost see the complex welter of calculations going through her mind. One of them involved killing us all - damn the losses, consequences, and the serious possibility that her cell would be destroyed in the attempt - and looting my corpse. But it wasn't possible that I had all of Tonya's accouterments actually with me. Was it?

"My price is Jessica and the two girls," I said inexorably. "And I am not renting them, I'm buying them."

Benjamin blinked and looked at me.

My words rocked the cell-mistress once more. The price I was asking was steep. Essentially, I was demanding that she barter away the future of her cell. It would take years to replace her three youngest daughters - quite possibly it would take more years than a short-lived Folk woman had left. And Jessica was a particularly rare and valuable resource. But would any of that really matter if the cell-mistress found herself soon ascending to undreamt of heights within her order?

"If I send a messenger tonight," I added, "the rest of the jewelry and weapons will be yours within the week."

The cell-mistress considered my words carefully. Then she came to her decision.

"Jessica, Samantha, Sophie. Come here," she called out sharply.

Out of the darkness, they appeared. They were wearing dark, form-fitting, leather armor - even little Samantha and Sophie. Dark wrappings covered their faces, leaving only their eyes revealed.

"Uncover your faces," the cell-mistress continued tonelessly.

The cell's youngest assassins stripped the wrappings from their faces. When they were done, their wraps hung from their hands like long, dark, ribbons. I was oddly reminded of my daughters tying up each other's hair.

The expression on Jessica's face was blank - almost lost. She had mentally retreating to the place where orders were instantly obeyed rather than being even slightly considered. The two younger girls were more obviously shocked and confused.

"Kneel. Heads to the ground," the cell-mistress ordered.

The girls did as they were commanded.

"Please, mistress. Please don't," I heard Jessica whisper. She said it so softly that I doubt the cell-mistress heard. Not that the cell-mistress was listening.

"Jessica, Samantha, and Sophie: you are no longer mine," the cell-mistress stated very clearly. "I renounce all claim to you. You now belong to lord Ashe. Your service is his. Your bodies are his. Your souls are his."

Then she bowed to me. I nodded my head in return.

We had a bargain.


	40. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 7

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 7

Jessica and the girls were silent as we walked back to the inn. They were unarmed and almost naked. The cell-mistress had demanded that they return everything except for the sparse one-piece padding they'd been wearing under their leather armor. I found it particularly offensive that the cell-mistress had taken their weapons - although perhaps the world was a better place without Jessica's particular form of cosmetics.

The common room of the inn was empty except for a serving-girl who was busily cleaning up. I can only imagine what went through her head when three mostly unclad females - two of them not yet women - accompanied Benjamin and I up to our room.

That first night was difficult. Even a terrible home is still home, and to be taken from it is no small thing. Sophie began to cry as she huddled close to her sister in a corner of the room. Jessica covered them both with a blanket and held them until they fell asleep. In the faint moonlight coming through a gap in a shuttered window, they looked like some strange and awkward creature, with twelve oddly mismatched limbs tangled around a single body.

I watched them for much of the night. At one point, Jessica began trembling - her body twitching as she whispered, "Please, mistress. Please don't. I'll be good."

For a moment, I considered waking Jessica, but she quickly went silent. Whatever punishment the cell-mistress was inflicting upon her in her dreams had ceased.

In the morning, they were quietly obedient, but still silent and unable to look directly at either Benjamin or I.

Benjamin loaned Jessica some clothes that were too big for her, but at least roughly fit. Then I gave her some coins and sent her to the market to find something more suitable for herself and the younger girls.

* * *

After Jessica got back from the market, she cornered me on the stairs that led up to the room we were sharing. Or, to be more precise, the room that Benjamin, Jessica, Samantha, Sophie, and I were sharing. Frankly, I was beginning to envy Gant his comfortable place in the stables.

One moment I was going down the stairs - I planned on having an early-morning communication with an Angel messenger - and Jessica met me half-way. She was wearing a suitably nondescript dress and a pair of sandals, and was carrying a bundle of similar clothing for Samantha and Sophie. I nodded in her general direction and...

And the next thing I knew, Jessica was on her knees, unbuckling my pants.

"I'll make it good for you, my lord" she whispered to me, feigned desire dripping off every word, and her bright blue eyes gazing up at me in affected adoration. "Anyway you like. Anytime you want. You won't need Samantha and Sophie - they're too young to have any idea what they're doing. I'll be so much better for you than them. I promise."

I think I said something not particularly intelligent. I believe it was, "What?!"

Honestly, I suppose I should have seen something like that coming.

I was still searching for a better response when Jessica's hands became even more ambitiously explorational. Then she kissed me on the only logical place to kiss me given our respective positions.

That was enough. I picked Jessica up, turned her around so she was facing back down the stairs, and then gave my dangerous new servant a firm swat on the ass that was so hard she lurched down a step.

"Don't do that again," I growled as I refastened my pants.

Jessica turned back to face me. "I don't understand... did I do something wrong?" she asked nervously.

"You mean apart from suggesting that I like girls so young that they don't even have breasts?"

"I... I'm sorry. I just..." Jessica was so confused that by then she was stuttering.

"You just wanted to protect those two miniature hellions from me. Well, they're safe, so your mission is accomplished. Now go upstairs and give the girls their clothes. Then get something to eat, and keep an eye out for anyone who looks suspicious. Your former mistress was right, the temple is tricky and smart and they just might have figured out that someone is asking questions and tracked that back to us."

"Yes, my lord," Jessica said quickly - she was now back on ground that she understood.

* * *

Benjamin, Gant, and I were out on the street. I'd just sent an Angel messenger back to Ashe. Off in the distance we could see his wings beating as he cleared the town wall and soared away.

"What's wrong?" Benjamin asked.

"Jessica offered to entertain me with her mouth," I told him grumpily.

Gant snorted in amusement.

Benjamin shrugged. "So she's trying to get in good with you. Given her training, that's predictable."

"She promised she would show me boundless carnal delights if I left Samantha and Sophie alone."

Gant was clearly puzzled, "What? Did the cubs do something wrong? Wait! Did they poison more ale?!"

Benjamin just winced. "I imagine that's not the best job of reading someone's personality that Jessica has ever done."

"She's young," I replied curtly.

"But why are the cubs in trouble?" Gant persisted. The furrow between his eyes was particular deep at the moment.

"They're not in trouble, Gant," I explained. "Jessica was just confused about something that involved them."

Benjamin looked at me speculatively. "Forgetting Jessica's misjudgment for a moment, maybe you actually should bed her? You've been pretty distracted lately. A bounce with a young and pretty partner might help."

"Always a good idea," Gant grunted.

"Have you two perhaps noticed that I'm a happily married man?" I asked them.

Which was an interesting thing for me to say considering that at the moment it wasn't completely true. That sudden realization hit me hard.

Benjamin chuckled. "So am I. And yet Faye told me it's okay to wander since she's spends so much time off with Rahne and Rose. I just have to remember who really has her hand on my leash - which were her exact words, by the way. In terms of Jessica, I'd have to say that Olivia wouldn't mind, Emma would probably enjoy a long and energetic bath with her, and Anna would want to do something involving all five of you while a cheering crowd watched."

"Well... yes, that's true, but I still prefer women who don't think they're performing some kind of brave sacrifice by bedding me."

"It's not like you're a youngster," Benjamin pointed out, "and I'd say Jessica has yet to see twenty-five summers. Some would say that she's performing a brave sacrifice by even considering getting into bed with you."

"That makes me feel so much better, Benjamin. Thank you."

Benjamin smiled. "Look, I'm just saying that if she ever gets around to making an honest offer - and you seem to be weirdly attractive to the ladies for reasons only the Old One and the First Spider understand - consider giving it a try. You need to clear your head."

"Buy Jessica a nice joint of meat - and find her some pretty flowers," Gant added encouragingly. "I'll help you make up a poem about your big cock and how you use it to make your women squeal all night long."

"And there's the oddest advice I've ever received from my senior samurai and my personal yojimbo," I announced in exasperation.

"You're welcome, my lord," Gant said proudly.

"We live to serve," Benjamin added with a completely straight face.

I gave Benjamin a thoughtful look. "Speaking of odd conversations, when are you planning to talk to Jessica?"

He shifted uneasily. "Before the day is done. I'm unsure how to approach this."

"Do you have any idea of her family?"

"No. Not yet. She seems familiar, but I can't quite pin it down."

Since we weren't talking about sex, Gant had more-or-less tuned out the conversation. He was now eyeing a group of boisterous young Folk and Wilder who were approaching down the street. An elderly Folk woman was nervously trying to avoid them, but they were - probably inadvertently - blocking her way. Gant let out a low rumble of a growl. The youngsters noticed his gaze and decided to quiet down and shift to the other side of the street.

"Sort it out," I told Benjamin with a shrug, "but keep in mind that she might have some trouble making the adjustment."

"Yes, my lord. Oh, and thank you for backing my play with the cell-mistress. I know that cost you some irreplaceable leverage. It was much more than I expected."

'Backing my play' was an ancient turn of phrase. People from Nyack have the most interesting sayings.

"The point of having leverage is to use it," I said. "Gant is right, the mistress is unbalanced and everyone in her service is suffering for it. Actually, I was going to extract the two girls no matter what. Getting Jessica out of her clutches is a welcome bonus."

* * *

I was about to leave for my (hopefully) final meeting with the factors, when Samantha and Sophie caught up with us - they'd just finished breakfast. Then they confronted me.

"Master, may we talk to you?" Samantha asked respectfully. Sophie nodded once in agreement.

"The correct way to address him is as 'my lord'," Benjamin chided gently. "Among the Blood, 'master' is considered inappropriate."

"It took me a long time to figure that out," Gant told the girls.

"Oh... sorry," Samantha said to me. She was slightly taken aback.

"My lord, can we speak?" she tried again.

Actually, the two of them seemed to be adjusting quickly to their new circumstances. Given their youth, that wasn't too surprising.

"About what?" I asked.

"Jessica always wants to protect us," Samantha announced intensely. "We heard her offer to do man-and-woman things with you so you won't do them with us..."

Gant was back to looking puzzled. Benjamin was gazing skyward.

"This conversation is absolutely not happening," I said as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I was developing a headache.

"My lord, we don't have much experience, but we do know how it works between men and women..." Samantha began again. Meanwhile, Sophie earnestly made a repetitive gesture with both hands to demonstrate exactly what they were talking about. It was terribly graphic.

Now Gant looked shocked.

"Let me rephrase," I interrupted grimly, "this conversation is over. Go help Jessica keep an eye out for anyone following us."

Both girls subsided, gave each other a confused look, and then bowed their way out of my presence.

Benjamin was trying not to laugh.

"Oh!" Gant said - gasped really - in sudden realization. "Oh! They... Jessica... You... They... OH!"

* * *

By nightfall, I was finally done with the factors. Frankly, much of the last few days had consisted of me assuring them that they would have a place in what was coming.

It was time to consider my next move. A trip to Alban and a conversation with an old friend seemed in order.

Jessica drifted up next to us as Benjamin and I were headed back to the inn. That was impressively done. I hadn't seen her at all as she approached, and only caught her scent at the last moment. She used the wind and the stray odors of the town very well.

Meanwhile, Samantha and Sophie were circling us as they appeared to play some child's game of pursuit. They were never closer than twenty feet, but never further away than sixty.

"Being followed," Jessica whispered as her posture, facial expression, and body language did nothing to suggest that she was talking to me. And she knew how to throw her voice. To all the world, she looked like someone who just happened to be paralleling me on the street.

I paused to look at some fresh fruit in a nearby stall. "A Blood ronin and Wilder woman with green hair?" I asked.

The stall-keeper gave me an odd look. I suppose from his point of view, I was talking to myself.

"Yes," Jessica responded. "Kill them?"

"No." Then I took a small bag of plums and handed the stall-keeper half a silver. Plums are a luxury this far north.

Benjamin spoke up as we headed back down the street, "Any ideas who they're from?"

I nodded. "The woman walks as if she's used to having a sword at her side. She's most likely an acolyte of the Lady of Blades. The ronin could be from anyone."

Benjamin pursed his lips and nodded. "Yeah, a lot of people are interested in you ever since you killed a god, gave up on being a seeker, and made yourself a lord. Hell, that ronin could be from Shea."

Shea was a particularly talented warlord who was steadily waxing in power and influence. Some even called him 'Great Lord' - a title otherwise not used for a very long time. He was also a friend. However, he would be foolish not to keep an eye on me. And very soon I might give him real reason to be concerned. The local region was simply too disorganized and vulnerable - the legacy of the massive Creed attack that smashed through the area long ago and left it a shambles of interspersed Blood holdings, Creed bands, and the occasional heavily-fortified town or village. The monsters steadily radiating out of from Tronto made the situation even worse. Someone had to take the situation in hand.

And besides, it wasn't like I didn't have vassals of my own keeping watch on Shea.

* * *

We took a shortcut that led us past a crumbling watchtower. It had once been part of the old city wall. But since the expanded new walls were completed a half-century ago, the old wall was no longer being maintained and the locals had taken to mining it for dressed stone. I disagreed with that decision - the old wall should have been maintained as a second line of defense within the town.

That part of Nyagra was lightly populated, and our observers didn't follow us. They would be too easy to spot.

I gave the plums to Jessica, Samantha, and Sophie. The two girls were delighted. Even Jessica ventured a smile as she munched on one.

Then I gave a Benjamin an expectant look.

Benjamin walked over to the sheer wall of the watchtower. Turning his head, he looked back at Jessica.

"Jessica, follow me," he told her.

Then he began crawling up the wall. That's a gracefully fascinating thing to watch. Wallcrawlers don't climb as others do. Instead, they seem to almost glide upwards as their hands and feet stick to any surface, yet release effortlessly when needed.

Samantha and Sophie's eyes went wide - and then they looked at Jessica.

Jessica had a shocked hand over her mouth.

"My senior samurai has given you an order, Jessica," I said as mildly as possible. After all, she needed a moment to accept what she was seeing.

Then Jessica kicked off her sandals and followed Benjamin up the watchtower wall. Actually, I'd long ago noticed that male and female wallcrawlers have slightly different climbing styles. Jessica's movements were more precise than Benjamin's, more dependent on dexterity than strength, but she was no less expert.

"I wish we could do that," Samantha said to Sophie. Sophie nodded without taking her eyes off Jessica.

Up on the watchtower's crumbling roof, four stories above the ground, Benjamin sat as he looked out over the town - I think he was gazing at the spray from the distant falls. Jessica settled next to him. She was close, but not too close. And she didn't look like she had the slightest idea of what to say.

For a while, they simply enjoyed the view. A gust of wind rippled over them.

"Hello, cousin," I eventually heard Benjamin say to Jessica.

Jessica smiled.


	41. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 8

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 8

Gant was sitting on a fallen fragment of the old town wall, his great club propped up next to him. Samantha was perched on one of his thick thighs. Sophie had scaled his broad back and was atop one of Gant's shoulder.

"There's a whole town of people like Jessica and Mr. Benjamin?" Samantha asked. She seemed awe-struck by the idea.

"Not an entire town," I answered, "but there are many Spider-Folk in Nyack, and some live elsewhere. They particularly like the surviving high towers of the ancient Folk cities. However, until I met Jessica, I would have said that Benjamin was the only one of his kind for a hundred miles in any direction."

"Nyack?" Samantha asked thoughtfully. Sophie jumped down from her perch and landed next to Samantha on Gant's leg. Then she pointed to the east.

"Sophie's right," I agreed. "Nyack is many miles east of here, on the shore of the Lant ocean."

"Ocean?" Samantha asked.

"Like a sea," I explained, "but even bigger - and the water is salty."

Samantha and Sophie paused to consider that. I think they were trying to decide if I was serious.

"Could Jessica have family in Nyack?" Gant asked suddenly.

"That seems possible. I hope so."

"We should help her find them," Gant told me very seriously.

I nodded. "That's a good idea, Gant."

"I think Benjamin would help," Gant persisted.

I glanced up at the top of the watchtower. Benjamin and Jessica were still talking.

"I'm sure he will," I told Gant. Gant looked pleased.

I looked at the girls. "How did Jessica become a Widow?"

Samantha and Sophie shrugged in perfect unison. "That was way before we were sold to the mistress," Samantha explained. "And the mistress didn't like it if we talked about where we came from - she would beat us if we did that."

Gant sniffed disapprovingly.

"It was for our own good," Samantha insisted as she craned her head upwards to look at Gant. "All of our beatings were our fault and for our own good."

It seemed to me that Sophie was a bit doubtful about that, but she didn't contradict her sister.

Gant looked down at Sophie and tapped her gently shoulder. "Say something," he ordered gruffly.

Sophie's yellowish eyes blinked up at him in surprise. "Why?" she asked.

"Just checking," Gant said with a wave of his massive hand.

* * *

Eventually, Benjamin and Jessica came down from their high perch. Jessica seemed dazed, but pleased. Benjamin looked even more serious than usual.

"I'm sorry that took so long, my lord," Benjamin apologized.

I waved that off. "Let's get back to the inn and collect our gear. It's time to get on the road."

"Where to next, my lord?" Benjamin asked.

"Alban."

Benjamin frowned. "That's a long ride. Some of it is through wild country."

"We'll just have to handle it," I replied.

* * *

I purchased supplies and two additional riding horses. Jessica would ride on one horse. Samantha and Sophie would share the other. In my experience, Widows know how to ride, although I wouldn't be surprised if Samantha and Sophie weren't yet very skilled.

Actually, I needn't have worried about the two girls. They eagerly swarmed into the saddle of their slightly puzzled mare. Somewhat to my surprise, Sophie took the reins, while Samantha settled in behind her, with her arms around her sister's waist.

As Benjamin and I double-checked our saddlebags and packs, Gant came out of the stables with an ogress. She was about a foot-and-a-half shorter than Gant, but was almost as broad as she was tall. She was wearing a huge burlap dress and there was a scatter of yellow straw in her dark hair. She and Gant exchanged a few words, then Gant leaned over and nipped her on the cheek with his teeth. She let out a roar of laughter, hugged him, and then playfully bit him back.

"Gant?" I called as I mounted my horse.

"Coming, my lord," Gant replied. He tapped foreheads with the ogress and then walked towards us.

"She's a pretty one," Benjamin told Gant as the troll slipped a huge pack onto his back.

"You should see the warts on her," Gant said dreamily.

We rode out of the corral. Gant, of course, was walking.

"You like her?" Samantha asked eagerly. Sophie was also obviously interested in Gant's answer.

Gant nodded. "She's a back-breaker in the haystack. I'd like to do her again."

Jessica gave the girls a worried glance.

Samantha sighed as Sophie rolled her eyes. "We know what he's talking about, Jess," Samantha proclaimed with a great deal of worldly certainty.

Jessica didn't say anything in reply, but she did look somewhat resigned.

"So she's not just passing through town?" I asked.

Gant shook his head. "She works at a mill just outside of town. They were doing some repairs on the mill wheel, so she had time off. She came into town to have a barrel of ale and we got friendly last night."

"Fast work," Benjamin interjected. "Your new poetry must have really done the job."

Gant held a hand dramatically high. Then he paused and looked at us. "This will lose something in translation."

I nodded and indicated that he should continue.

Gant began to roar.

"MY MEMBER IS A MIGHTY HAMMER!

IT WILL MAKE YOU HOWL YOUR JOY TO THE MOON!

IT WILL SPLIT YOU AS THE LIGHTNING SPLITS THE GREAT OAK!

YOU WILL WORSHIP IT AS THE GREATEST YOU HAVE EVER KNOWN!

I HAVE HAD MANY FEMALES AND YOU WILL BE MY NEXT!

FOR YOU CANNOT RESIST MY MIGHTY HAMMER!"

Samantha and Sophie looked appalled. That was for the best.

"It doesn't rhyme," Jessica noted quietly. "is that also a matter of translation?"

"Partly," Gant replied seriously, "but I choose not limited by traditional forms. True poetry is in the power behind the words."

"A daring decision, Mr. Gant," Jessica said with a brief smile.

"The babes love rebels!" Grant replied with a gap-toothed grin. Then he opened his mouth to bellow out a few more lines.

"You'd better stop, Gant," I suggested. "Otherwise every trolless and ogress for miles around will be following us."

An alarmed look appeared on Gant's face. "Oh! Right! Sorry, my lord!"

"That's fine, Gant," I said.

By the side of the road, a trolless was unloading pallets of bricks from a wagon. She paused and gave Gant a speculative and hungry look. Then she jerked a thumb towards a nearby alleyway.

Gant said something apologetic-sounding to her in the troll tongue. She irritably turned away, plucked another pallet from the wagon, and dropped it on the others with a loud and angry crash.

"I've hurt her feelings," Gant sighed mournfully. "I must be more careful."

"Gant," I told him patiently. "The Old One said that with great power comes great responsibility. We should all heed his wisdom."

Gant nodded in agreement.

Beside me, Benjamin gritted his teeth. I swear, some people just refuse to acknowledge historical fact.

* * *

Our route had us pass by the village of Lock - although well to the north. My holding and the holdings of my vassals were located near there.

"Since we bought supplies and horses in Nyagra, I take it we aren't going to stop," Benjamin asked, carefully keeping his voice neutral.

We'd drifted slightly away from the others.

"No," I replied shortly. I really couldn't afford to go home and perhaps get in an argument with my quite intelligent, highly perceptive, and very out-spoken wives. They all undoubtedly suspected that something was amiss. And if the truth were to come out too soon, it might create a rift between Anna on one side, and Emma and Olivia on the other.

Benjamin nodded as he - probably unconsciously - checked the draw of his swords. You don't have to get too far east of Lock and the country suddenly becomes dangerous. Roch was the next major town east of Nyagra and the trail between Nyagra and Roch was not safe for small parties of travellers.

"There was a caravan that left Nyagra this morning," Benjamin told me.

I nodded. "We should catch up with them in an hour or so."

Benjamin nodded in agreement. That would make the passage safer.

"How did the conversation with Jessica go?" I asked.

Benjamin was silent for a moment before he answered. "She's happy to meet another one of her kind."

"Her family?" I asked.

"I'm not sure," Benjamin continued, "and she has no memory of the time before she was a Widow."

"You said earlier that there was something about her appearance that struck you," I said. "Might she have a family resemblance to someone you know?"

Benjamin was now obviously uneasy. "Yes."

I didn't push. Benjamin was obviously considering his words carefully.

Benjamin made his decision. "It didn't really occur to me until we talked. I'm still not completely sure, but she does look like a Stace."

Among the wallcrawlers, the Stace's are a very important family. In fact, they're one of the great houses of the Spider-Folk.

I glanced over my shoulder. Jessica was riding alongside Samantha and Sophie. Samantha was holding her foot out and Jessica was using one hand to fiddle with Samantha's sandal. Something had become tangled in it when we took a shortcut through some brush. Taking in Jessica's blonde hair, blue eyes, and the shape of her face, I could now see the resemblance that Benjamin had noticed.

"The Stace family would have paid the cell-mistress well to have a missing family member returned to them."

Benjamin nodded. "Which argues against her actually being a Stace. The cell-mistress would never have given Jessica up if she was."

"Perhaps the cell-mistress just didn't know," I suggested. "After all, we're a long way from Nyack and the dealings of the Towers. And the Widows make mistakes, just like anyone else. Trust me - I know."

Then I shook my head. "But in any case, we're getting too far ahead of ourselves. Perhaps a century or two ago a wandering spider with some Stace blood in him tumbled a local Folk girl and got her pregnant - and his nature just happened to manifest generations later in Jessica. That's happened before. And that would explain Jessica's resemblance to the Stace clan."

"That's most likely," Benjamin agreed. He didn't sound very convinced.


	42. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 9

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 9

After we caught up to the caravan, a trio of surprised guards intercepted us.

"Lord Ashe," an older ronin said as he bowed respectfully in his saddle. A pair of Folk horse-archers remained behind him - splitting their attention between us and the approaches to the caravan. We were on the edge of some very dangerous territory.

I knew the ronin. "Jeffrey," I said, returning his greeting, "when are you going to settle down and cease your wandering?"

The irony of someone with my history saying something like that was not lost on me.

The ronin smiled. "That's not in me, my lord. Perhaps if I were to meet the right woman... but that's yet to happen."

It was no secret to me that Jeffrey actually preferred the company of other men, so he had no wives or children - and therefore no need for lands. Such tastes are of little matter to the Blood, although it is understood that we have a duty to perpetuate the line of the Old One. There are Blood holders who maintain both wives and husbands, and I'd always assumed that Jeffrey would someday become one of them.

But in the meantime, without the responsibility of a family to care for, the life of a free-wheeling ronin mercenary certainly had its attractions. I was once one of them.

"We wish to join the caravan," I told Jeffrey.

"Of course, my lord," Jeffrey responded with a wave towards the last, dusty, wagon. "I'll notify the captain. He'll want to speak with you eventually."

I nodded and indicated to the others that we should get going.

* * *

By early evening, the caravan stopped at a creek to water the animals. That was when the caravan-captain paid us a visit. He was a tall and rangy Redeye, wearing the characteristic goggles of his particular breed of Wilder. However, there was also a very practical-looking short-sword at his side. It looked like it had seen more than a little use.

"Lord Ashe," the caravan-captain said as he bowed. His bow was finely calculated to show respect for my station, while also letting me know that he had a position of his own that should be respected. "My name is Christopher, and I command here."

Christopher was an old name, honoring both the Old Faith of the Folk and the ancient lineage of the Redeyes. There was a time when I would have perhaps found some meaning in that.

Now, it was just a name.

"My thanks for allowing us to join your caravan," I said. "How may I best assist?"

Christopher glanced at the others with me. His eyes lingered on Benjamin and Gant, but dismissed Jessica, Samantha and Sophie.

"If you would take up a position at mid-caravan, that would best enhance our defenses," Christopher finally suggested. Actually, since I was requesting to join his caravan, he had every right to give me a direct order. However, courtesy and common-sense suggested he should avoid that.

"It will be my pleasure," I replied.

"If I may ask, my lord," Christopher added carefully. "I want to make sure there is no confusion concerning your women."

That was a wise precaution. To all appearances, Jessica, Samantha, and Sophie were Folk servants. Caravan teamsters and guards are a rough bunch, and the approachability of servant women is sometimes a matter of "misunderstandings". I didn't particularly want to kill any of my fellow travelers. And the thought of how Gant might react to a perceived threat to Samantha or Sophie was something that should be kept in mind.

"They are to left alone," I replied shortly.

"I will spread the word," Christopher said with a nod.

* * *

There were about twenty wagons in the caravan. After the caravan-captain left, we moved up the line of wagons until we were roughly in the midst of them. Thankfully, that also got us out of the worst of the dust that was being kicked up by horses and wagon-wheels.

"I could improvise a courtesan's robe and earn us some coins after we stop for the night," Jessica said as she adjusted the kerchief masks she'd improvised for Samantha and Sophie. The girls were peering about curiously. After only a few hours with the caravan, they were already covered by a light coating of trail dust - and that was only going to get worse.

"No," Benjamin, Gant, and I said simultaneously.

Ignoring Benjamin and Gant, Jessica met my eyes. "Yes, my lord. However, men tell their women - even hired ones - things they wouldn't otherwise reveal."

"I'll keep that in mind," I told her, "but right now, I don't think that's necessary. Besides, I already told the caravan-captain that you're in my company."

Jessica bowed her head politely. Then she gathered up Samantha and Sophie and they took our horses and waterskins down to the creek.

To the north, even over the constant racket of the caravan, I could faintly hear the waves of the Ont Sea crashing against the shore, and the sharp call of seabirds.

"Ah..." I said in satisfaction. "Do you hear that, Benjamin?"

Benjamin gave me a puzzled look. "What?"

"The lack of words. The quiet. The blessed silence. I told Jessica my decision, she asked for clarification, I gave it, and that was the end of the matter."

"It was your decision to marry three exceptionally strong-willed women," Benjamin pointed out.

"You like that kind of woman," Gant growled.

I waved a hand in surrender. "I know. I know."

"And I would not mistake silence for meekness," Benjamin warned. "Jessica is dangerous and we've seen that she can think for herself. I would expect the unexpected with her."

As always, Benjamin's words were wise. I nodded in agreement.

Something seemed to occur to Gant. "My lord, you said we'll try to find Jessica's family. But what about the girls?"

"Their mother sold them." I replied. "I see no point in returning the girls - even if we could even find her. Instead, they'll become a part of my household."

Gant raised a bushy eyebrow that was the size of man's thumb. "They have Creed blood," he observed.

The Creed are the great ancestral enemy of the Blood, and the Traditions are blunt and plain-spoken about their fate. The Blood will someday rid the world of the Creed - that is both our destiny and our duty. However, some confuse the Creed with those descended from the victims of the Creed. Gant had been on our world long enough to see that.

"I'll deal with anyone who misjudge my hospitality," I told Gant.

Gant ponderously nodded his massive head. My answer seemed to satisfy him.

Benjamin wasn't participating in our discussion. Instead, he was gazing into the woods to the south of us.

"Trouble," Benjamin told us quietly.

I glanced towards the creek. At a large pool, just south of the track, the caravan's horses and oxen were drinking their fill. Upstream from there, waterskins and canteens were being replenished. Jessica and the girls had arrived at the waterhole just seconds ago, yet they were suddenly heading back. Our waterskins were empty and the horses were restive because they hadn't been allowed to drink.

Jessica's eyes met mine and I could see the urgency in them. Like Benjamin, she had also sensed a threat. The Spider-Folk are particularly talented at that sort of thing.

Gant reached for his club as Benjamin drew his swords. I rapped my knuckles against the side of the wagon. One of the wagon's two teamsters - a female Blood ronin - was keeping an eye on their wagon while her partner watered their draft horses. Benjamin's weapon draw had already grabbed her attention, but she looked at me.

"We're about to be attacked," I told her. Her eyes flicked away from me and then glanced in the same direction that I was eying. Given the wind, there was a particular length of the woodline that was optimally upwind from the many sensitive noses in the caravan. A Blood worthy of the name keeps the wind-blind direction always in mind.

Then there was a savage shout, and Creed warriors began pouring out of the trees.

* * *

The caravan-captain had horse-borne pickets between the caravan and the southern expanse. The guards shielding the fore of the caravan quickly found themselves engaged. Snarls, howls, and the screams of angry and frightened horses filled the air. Folk archers arced arrows into the oncoming Creed. Teamsters and guards began moving in that direction.

The teamster who was with us leaped from her wagon and dashed towards the melee. The situation down by the creek became confused as the watering animals suddenly panicked. Many of the available teamsters were trying to deal with that, while the others were fighting the Creed.

Gant took a sure step towards the fight. His club was held across his body, ready to either parry or swing.

"No," I told Gant. He paused, looking uncertainly at me.

"It's a feint," I explained to him.

"Yes," Benjamin agreed. He was gazing towards the back of the caravan. "The main attack will come from there."

Jessica, the girls, and our horses finally rejoined us. The horses weren't trained war-animals and the noise of the battle, combined with the alarming scent of blood in the air, was making them skittish.

"Protect the girls," I told Jessica. She nodded. Samantha and Sophie were wide-eyed, but both moving with sure and precise calm as they began tying our horses to the iron hitching-rings on the back of the wagon.

Then Benjamin, Gant, and I began moving back along the line of wagons - towards the actual threat. Behind us, at the front of the caravan, we heard the characteristic roar of a Redeye energy blast. Christopher was doing his part in the fight.

Two Blood ronin, their claws extended, were racing past us - towards the fight. I hooked one by the arm and turned him about. He angrily made to strike at me, but I slapped him first. He fell back several paces, a shocked expression on his face.

"Come with me," I ordered. My voice was neither harsh or entreating - I simply spoke as if I expected his obedience. The ronin hesitated, nodded, and then joined with us. His partner had run on, but quickly doubled back, swearing loudly as she joined us. Overhead, a bow-carrying Angel also paused in her movement forward, and then began circling above us. She wasn't sure what we'd seen.

At the back of the caravan, Jeffrey, his archers, and a motley band of teamsters with bared claws and an unorthodox mix of weapons were waiting in a thin and wary line. Jeffrey was tensely watching the tree-line. Guarding the back of the column was Jeffrey's assigned task and he was doing it. He shot me a grateful look when he saw us approach.

Just as my band joined Jeffrey's, the Creed main attack began swarming out of the trees. Unlike the smaller force of their fellows at the front of the caravan, they came at us in complete silence.

And there were a lot of them. We were badly outnumbered.

* * *

Our archers began firing. Arrows sleeted into the Creed, but with little apparent effect. It would take more than one or two arrows before a Creed fell, but they weren't going to give us that much time. They can cover ground very quickly.

Jeffrey rode through our line and rammed his horse into the leading Creed. The mass of the horse overwhelmed the Creed and slammed him to the ground. Jeffrey's horse trampled the downed Creek as Jeffrey slashed at the next Creed with his claws. Meanwhile, Jeffrey's horse screamed as the half-crushed Creed clawed at it's belly.

I led a small force out of our wavering line of archers. It consisted of myself, five Blood, and Gant. Benjamin was with the archers. I would like to say I had a plan, but the only instructions I'd been able to give amounted to, "Kill the leader."

As plans goes, it was a sound one, but it suffered from a lack of detail. Jeffrey had the right idea - we had to get a line of skirmishers between the Creed and the archers. Otherwise, the Creed would make short work of the archers and then fall on the rest of the caravan from behind.

The first Creed I encountered was a youngster of no more than fifteen summers. He was faster than his comrades and that put him at the fore of the Creed advance. I glimpsed only a few aspects of his appearance - blond hair in long braids, ragged trousers, jagged designs painted with dried mud and blood onto his bare chest, a human finger-bone necklace, and the darkness of his fingertip claws.

His orange eyes momentarily reminded me of Samantha and Sophie.

Then he heedlessly leaped at me - and I decapitated him with a crossed-claw swipe. His head parted from his body in a wild splash of blood and his body spasmed as it slammed to the ground. I kicked the head out of the way so it wouldn't get underfoot.

A dozen or so yards behind the dead boy was the leader of the Creed band. He had abandoned silence and was bellowing orders in an effort to deal with our interruption of his ambush. Our only real chance was to kill him and break the will of the Creed charge. Unfortunately, there were at least a half-dozen Creed between him and our small force.

An arrow - fired by the Angel overhead - appeared in the chest of the next Creed in front of me. He gasped in more surprise than pain, but that moment of delay gave me the time I needed. I took his arm off just above the elbow and dodged past him. The Creed made a grab for me with his remaining hand, but a blow from Gant's massive club smashed him across the battlefield. Jeffrey - on foot and bleeding from multiple claw wounds - appeared at my side and raked open the face of another attacker. The Creed stumbled away, vainly trying to clear blood away from his eyes.

Since Gant, Jeffrey, and I were in the lead of our fighters, the Creed converged on us. We went back-to-back as we defended ourselves. More arrows appeared in the bodies of our attackers - mostly fired from our extremely accurate over-head Angel. There was a white-hot spark of pain as a slash opened my thigh. I responded with a thrust that went through my attacker's chest. Twisting my wrist as I withdrew my claws, I shredded the Creed's heart. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell away, but then another Creed immediately took his place.

We were being surrounded, but that was acceptable. I had no personal plans for killing the Creed leader, but I did want to draw the other Creed away from him.

The Creed leader was still bellowing orders when Benjamin and Jessica leaped over us and onto him. In mid-jump, Jessica threw a pair of daggers that impacted into the Creed's shoulder and upper arm. Benjamin had his short-swords out. Even before he hit the ground, he'd jammed one sword into the leader's stomach and the other through his upper chest. Then Jessica and Benjamin landed in a typical wallcrawler crouch, on opposite sides of their target.

Jessica was behind the Creed leader. Another dagger appeared in her hand and she thrust it into the leader's lower back and ripped sideways. The leader's legs gave way as she severed his spinal column. Benjamin pulled one of his swords loose and opened the leader's throat. As the leader collapsed to the ground, Jessica jammed her dagger deep into one of his eyes.

Despite the loss of their leader, the fight was still raging. However, I could tell that the Creed were becoming hesitant.

Then a red energy blast smashed into the Creed in front of me, pulverizing him and throwing his rag-doll body back towards the trees. The caravan-captain was leading a squad of his guards to reinforce us.

That was enough for most of the Creed - they broke and ran.

But as always with the Creed, there were some who were too deep in bloodlust to understand they had lost. We sent them to their doom.


	43. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 10

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 10

After the Creed broke and ran, my body and spirit ached with the need to pursue them. In fact, to pursue them until they were all wiped from this world. The other Blood in our caravan felt the same - I could sense it within them. However, we had a larger responsibility. After all, we could not abandon our Wilder and Folk comrades. So I aided the caravan-captain in restraining the more impetuous Blood, and together we sent them back to their task of defending the caravan.

Some of the Folk and Wilder members of the caravan were experienced battlefield medicae, and they were doing their best to deal with casualties. Fortunately, we also had an actual healer among our number - a Folk woman who was a passenger with the caravan. She began aiding the injured Folk and Wilder, letting the medicae deal with lesser wounds while she dispensed spells of healing for more severe injuries. She even took the time to save Jeffrey's horse. Jeffrey was grateful, but when he tried to give her some coins, she merely waved them away and went on to the next of the injured.

Meanwhile, I had a problem within my own band.

"I thought I told you to protect Samantha and Sophie," I told Jessica.

Jessica bowed so deep that for a moment I though her hair would brush the dust of the trail. "My lord, please forgive me, but the best way to protect them was to help break the Creed charge."

A chuckle rumbled out of Gant's chest. Benjamin considered Jessica's words, then wryly shrugged his shoulders. Samantha and Sophie stared at me with alarm. They obviously feared that I would do something dreadful to Jessica. They had spent too much time in the clutches of their former mistress.

For a moment, I considered Jessica's words before replying.

"I really don't want to discourage initiative," I eventually said to her, "but I likewise don't want to ponder the exact phrasing of every order I give you."

"I'm sorry, my lord," Jessica said contritely.

"You'll be punished," I replied, "but I'll defer that until later. The horses still need to be watered. Take Samantha and Sophie and tend to them."

In the silence after I spoke, Sophie let out a long sign of relief. Then she clapped her hands over her mouth in reaction to the sheer inappropriateness of what she'd done. Gant laughed, reached down, and tousled her hair.

Jessica grabbed the girls and they quickly turned away.

"Jessica!" I called just before she vanished from my sight.

Jessica turned and bobbed a quick bow towards me.

"Where did you get the daggers from?" I asked.

She hesitated before answering. "The were on the belt of a Folk teamster. I borrowed them. He had a sword and didn't really need them."

"Remember to return them," I told her.

"Yes, my lord," Jessica replied with another bow. Then she and the girls turned back to their task.

Once they were gone, I let out a long sigh of my own. I suspected it would not be my last when dealing with Jessica.

Gant leaned against his club. "Beating her will do nothing," he warned me.

I nodded in agreement. "Actually, it would be counter-productive. I'm sure the cell-mistress did her best to deal with Jessica's rebellious spirit - and obviously failed."

"I warned you that she has a mind of her own," Benjamin said with a shrug. "She's going to be a handful."

Gant grunted in agreement.

* * *

After taking the time to reorganize, the caravan limped on. It was still two hours until sundown and Christopher obviously wanted to put every mile that he could underneath our wheels.

The Blood among us healed quickly, of course. Meanwhile, our injured Folk and Wilder did the best they could with the aid of our healers. We had lost a half-dozen of our number, and we carried the bodies of our slain with us. Nobody likes to bury their dead in territory haunted by Creed. After all, why should we feed the animals?

After sundown, we continued for another hour as the moon rose ahead of us. We eventually made camp on a defensible hilltop that overlooked the trail - arriving at that location was obviously the reason that Christopher had decided to push on into the early evening. Christopher decreed that we would have double guards that night. That meant none of his people would get a full night's sleep, but nobody complained. An encounter with the Creed always has the effect of making everyone very practical.

Christopher visited me after he gave out his assignments for the night.

"You and your people did well," he said politely. He looked tired - I hoped he would allow himself some sleep that night.

"As did yours," I replied. "That was an unusually large raid."

Christopher nodded. "They've been getting worse over the last few months. I'll have to increase my guards - and my rates in order to pay for them. The caravaneer's guild has been resisting that, but I'll have words with them when we get to Roche."

Then Christopher held up a pair of coin-purses. "I saw what your spider-servants did. They broke the Creed charge and should be rewarded."

Actually, I had the right to claim any reward as my own. Christopher was clarifying what I wanted done. I nodded in the direction of our small camp. We'd built it next to the wagon that was our position in the caravan. The two teamsters from the wagon - a Blood female ronin and a orange-haired Wilder male - were cooking a simple meal with us.

Benjamin accepted the money and exchanged some courteous words with Christopher. Jessica seemed a little lost, but bowed politely to the caravan-captain. Once Christoper left us, she immediately handed her purse to me.

"This should be yours," I told her as I weighed the purse in my hand, "but I think it's time to invoke your punishment."

I gave the purse to Samantha and Sophie. They were completely astonished.

"It's ours?" Samantha asked, just to be sure there was no misunderstanding. Meanwhile, Sophie had dumped the coins into her hand and was busily counting them.

"Yes," I replied.

"We've never had money before!" Samantha said excitedly. "What should we do with it?"

"Buy something," Gant suggested from off to the side.

"Right!" Samantha said enthusiastically as Sophie handed her half of their new-found wealth.

Then Samantha frowned and asked, "But what should we buy?"

"This is a merchant caravan," I pointed out. "I'm sure somebody will be happy to sell you something."

"I don't suppose I can convince you to save at least some of your money?" Benjamin asked. He had the air of a man who knew his question was purely rhetorical.

"No. Money is for spending," Samantha responded immediately. She said that as if it was an immutable law of the universe. And perhaps she was right.

Then, clutching their coins, she and Sophie ran off.

"They're going to get along fine with Anna," I muttered to myself, "but there might be trouble with Emma."

Gant grunted in agreement.

* * *

Samantha and Sophie eventually returned with a mixed hoard of food and clothing. The food - pickled eggs and fresh vegetables - became part of our evening meal. After we ate, the two girls eagerly modeled their new dresses for us. As was perhaps predictable, their tastes tended towards the loudly colorful.

They'd also purchased a bundle of small daggers. They didn't do as good a job of hiding that from me as they thought, but I saw no reason to object.

Benjamin and I took the first watch. Everyone else dug out their bedrolls and settled down for what would surely be a poor night's sleep.

I walked to the back of the caravan, hoping to have a word with Jeffrey. I was wondering if he had any insight into the recent increase in Creed activity. However, Jeffrey was already asleep and I didn't want to disturb him.

On the way back to the others, I encountered the caravan's Angel. She was perched on the tarp-covered cargo of one of the wagons, peering out into the darkness with her bow in her hands. She was quite pretty - with short-cropped black hair that matched her dark wings. Like most Angels, she was slim but muscular.

She gave me an awkward sitting bow when she saw me.

"That was good shooting today," I said quietly. Which was true. I never saw her miss.

The girl smiled proudly. "Thank you, my lord."

I intended to continue on, but then something caught my eye.

"What's that?" I asked, pointing towards some kind of charm or amulet she was wearing around her neck.

The Angel took it off and held it up. In the moonlight, I could see it more clearly.

"The captain had us behead all of the dead Creed," she told me. "I took this from one of them."

The amulet consisted of a fine chain from which hung a tiny stylized figure of an exotically armored woman who was wielding a huge sword. It was too finely made to be of Creed manufacture - they're barely able to even cure the hides they wear as clothing. The dead Creed had obviously taken it from someone he'd murdered.

"Do you know what that is?" I asked.

The Angel shook her head.

"It represents Illyana the Mad," I told her.

The Angel gave me a long look. Then she suddenly heaved the amulet away. For a moment, moonlight glittered on the chain of the necklace as it spun through the air. It landed in some brush a good thirty yards away.

"I didn't know," the Angel told me desperately. Her voice was shaking. "I swear I didn't know, my lord!"

I could see fear glittering in the Angel's eyes. If I told anyone that she had been wearing the symbol of the demon mistress...

"Beware of anything you take from the Creed," I told her, "and we will never speak of this again."

The Angel slid from her perch and knelt before me. She was about to kiss my boots when I put a hand on her forehead to stop her.

"Get back on watch," I ordered.

* * *

Back with the others, I stared up at the stars. Because the moon was up, the night sky didn't have its usual dark depth. Only a few of the brightest moving stars were visible. The scholars who claim those stars are ships circling our world say that they are the ships nearest to us.

Gant was snoring - a deep rumble that always reminded me of an avalanche. The orange-haired teamster was wrapped up in a cloak as he watched over his sleeping friend. Samantha and Sophie were tangled up in their blankets, still wearing their just-purchased finery. Jessica was next to them, an arm draped over the girl's bodies.

"Is everything all right, my lord?" Benjamin whispered from the darkness. He and I were still on watch and would be for some hours to come.

"I think I just saw a sign," I responded.

I could sense Benjamin's startled reaction. I was no longer a seeker, and the half-mad world of signs and portents was not supposed to be a part of my day-to-day reality.

"Was it a good sign?" he asked.

"I'm not sure."


	44. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many of you have asked to see the Demon Lady. This one is for you guys - keep the faith.

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 11

There was no sun, but the sky was hot-iron red. The craggy desert that surrounded us was barren of any vegetation, although a number of scaled creatures seemed to slither and skitter through the shadowy clefts of broken rocks. The air was blisteringly hot and tainted with a sulfurous stench.

"Hello, James, son of James, who was the son of the first Wolverine," Illyana called out to me. She was sitting on a plinth of broken basalt. Her eyes were pure red and her wide and deadly smile showed a jagged row of sharp teeth. Ram-like horns curled back from her forehead and her legs ended in hooves. She wore angular black armor, and a huge sword jammed into the rocky gravel at her feet only served to make her appearance seem even more ominous.

When Illyana isn't in what is now her home dimension, she can appear much more human. In fact, she has the appearance of an attractive woman with long blonde hair and pale white skin. When I was a boy, I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen.

"Hello, aunt Illyana," I responded politely. I felt myself returning her smile. Long ago, back when Illyana wasn't known by such titles as "the Demon Mistress" or "Illyana the Mad", I knew her as a friend to my parents and grand-parents. I could still remember her thrilling - and terrifying - bed-time stories. Her tales may have brought us nightmares, but as far as myself and my brothers and sisters were concerned, we still loved her.

Behind Illyana, there was a hut. However, rather than resting normally on the ground, it stood on two huge bird legs. I recognized it from ancient stories that Illyana herself had told me.

I gestured towards the hut. "What happened to the original owner?" I asked.

Illyana shrugged, "She no longer needs it. In fact, she no longer needs anything."

I hesitated, and then decided it would be best to change the subject.

"I found a young Angel wearing your amulet. She took it from a dead Creed just a few hours before."

Illyana seemed to gaze into my eyes. "I sensed your presence through that amulet. However, it has no real power to harm either body or soul. She's not in any danger."

I let out a soft sigh of relief. "That's what I hoped," I said, "but why was a Creed wearing it?"

"I presume that one of the fools who claims to worship me was murdered and robbed by a Creed."

Actually, it is an open question if Illyana really cares about any of her 'worshippers'. She's certainly never expressed any unhappiness with my habit of killing any who dare to use her name to summon demons.

In fact, I think she approves.

Illyana is feared and perhaps hated, but she has come to the aid of the Blood more than once during our history. Back during the first war with the Dark Elves, her army of demons were critical to our victory. Ultimately, no mortal really understands Illyana and her goals. I've certainly never received a satisfying answer from her concerning her long-term plans. And possibly more than anything else, it's that aura of mystery that leave us so cautious of her. Illyana has never been one to explain herself.

"I see you've left the path of a seeker," Illyana noted. I think there was some approval in her voice.

"It was time," I replied with a shrug.

"I also hear that you're married."

"I've been lucky in that regard," I responded cautiously.

"Tell me about your wives. What are their names?"

"Anna is my senior wife..."

"The horny elf minstrel?" Illyana chuckled. "You're still with her? I assumed she was a passing thing - wasn't your marriage just to get her out of the clutches of some angry lord?"

Actually, there was some truth to that, but... "It turned out we had more in common than we thought."

"The world never ceases to amaze," Illyana marveled. "How many other wives do you have?"

"Two more. A Fire priestess named Emma is my second wife. A Storm-Hammer named Olivia is my third."

"That sounds like a group of most accomplished women," Illayana said approvingly. "How do they get along?"

"There are no serious conflicts. As the senior wife, Anna is a benevolent tyrant and Emma and Olivia have been remarkably tolerant of her rule. It probably helps that Emma and Olivia were once lovers - and have become so again."

"Children?"

"Four sons and two daughters. All healthy and growing like weeds."

"Are you and your wives happy?"

I hesitated before continuing.

"There's a problem," I admitted.

Illyana tilted her head as she waited for me to continue.

"Emma and Olivia have lied to me. There was a woman with child and..."

"The Loki-spawn," Illyana interrupted. He eyes were now narrow red slits. "The one who was supposed to be killed, but wasn't."

A descendent of Loki named Laufey Sigmundson had made some sort of pact with an ancient and dreaded being, but the details were obscure to me. In payment for the boon of power, Laufey committed a terrible act and the child was the result. Laufey was now dead and whatever might remain of his soul was undoubtedly a wretched slave to something horrible, yet the child born of himself and his sister still lived.

"You're well-informed," I responded.

Illyana nodded. "The ritual that created the boy echoed throughout the many realms."

"What's your interest in the matter?" I asked guardedly.

"The same as yours. The child mixes the blood of Loki and the essence of another entity of great power. One way or another, he must eventually be dealt with."

I wondered what she meant by "one way or another", but then I took a deep breath and asked a question that was even more important.

"The great power... the one Laufey invoked in exchange for magical power. Do you know who - or what - it is?"

Illyana was silent as she contemplated me.

"I will answer your question," she replied slowly, "but there will be a price."

I suppose I should have been frightened by that, but I wasn't.

"What sort of price?" I asked.

Illyana tilted her head as she gazed at me. "Once a year, I will visit you. I will appear as I once was - a mere mortal slip of a girl. And I will spend the day with you and your family and then leave. You have my word that no ill will come of it."

"Why?" I asked bluntly.

Illyana lifted her chin as she considered my question. Her eyes seemed to go slightly distant.

"I just want to see... something that is a remainder of a world that once was," she eventually told me.

Then it was my turn to be silent.

"No," I finally answered.

Illyana nodded her head stiffly. There was no particular expression on Illyana's face, but her barbed tail lashed behind her. I'm married to an elf and have half-elvish children. I've learned to read tails.

"There is no pact because it isn't needed," I added quietly. "Give me an answer, or don't, Aunt Illy. You have always been welcome in my home. It's just that for so very long I didn't have one. Now I do. Visit as you desire."

Illyana was silent for a moment. Then she spoke. "I've underestimated you, little James. My apologies for that."

Then she told me what I wanted to know.

* * *

"Yikes!" Samantha yelped as she dodged backward. She had touched my shoulder as I dreamed of Illyana. My reaction was extreme.

"Don't do that," I grumbled as I retracted the claws of my right hand and clambered to my feet.

"Yes, my lord," Samantha whispered, still backing away.

Everyone was staring at me.

Jessica hurried over. "I'm sorry, my lord. That was my fault - I told Samantha to wake you."

Then she took Samantha by the arm and rushed her over to the horse that Samantha and Sophie shared. Jessica always tried so hard to take care of the two girls she thought of as her little sisters.

The caravan was stirring. Our horses were fed, watered, and saddled. Benjamin was holding my horse. Gant was holding the other horses. Jessica's mare had taken a shine to Gant and was affectionately rubbing the side of her head against him.

"Everything okay?" Benjamin asked in a low voice after he led my horse to me.

"Yes," I said automatically as I took the reigns. Then I frowned. "Well, actually no."

Benjamin just looked at me.

"I had a visitor in my dreams," I told him quietly.

Benjamin just nodded as he waited for me to continue. The list of those who were capable of paying me such a visit was rather long. Longer than even Benjamin knew.

"It was Illyana," I finished.

Benjamin grimaced and looked around, checking to see if anybody had overheard. Even in the early-morning racket of the caravan breaking camp, privacy is not a given with so many sharp-eared Blood around.

"And just what did the Demon Lady want from you?" he asked worriedly.

"I think she's lonely," I replied.

It took Benjamin a moment to absorb that. "Why are so many conversations with you essentially insane? Anything else?"

I sighed. "I finally know what great power Laufey invoked within his damned circle of stones. The creature that contaminated both him and his son."

"Who?" Benjamin asked worriedly.

"Dormammu."


	45. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 12

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 12

Two more days passed as we continued eastward. Christopher set a hard pace, even though there were no further signs of the Creed. Most likely, they were dealing with the death of their leader. In the long run, more Creed would probably die in the resulting scramble for power than we had killed in battle.

On the evening of the second day, we took the time to burn the bodies of our dead. Then the bones and ashes were respectfully given to the sea. In the absence of any form of clergy, Christopher spoke the appropriate words for the faiths involved. One of the dead was a Blood ronin - Jeffrey and the ronin's woman performed the rites required to send his spirit to the afterlife.

I didn't know any of the dead, but their ends still troubled me. It's eighty miles from Nyagra to Roch, but the route was absurdly perilous. It was wrong that brave men and women routinely risked their lives just to haul common cargo across a tenuous trail.

After the funeral, I sat in our little encampment, moodily drawing lines in the dirt with a roughly carved stick. Jessica put a wooden plate of roast rabbit next to me, then she glanced down at the lines and symbols I'd been drawing.

"That's the road between Nyagra and Roch, isn't it?" she said after a moment of consideration.

That was really quite observant of her. I nodded as I began poking at my food with an iron fork.

"What do the symbols mean?" she asked curiously.

I used my fork to point at a central square midway between the two towns. "I've been keeping an eye on the terrain as we travel. That's a tall hill that we passed yesterday. It has access to a creek that's a good water-source. Widen the mouth of the creek and build a breakwater and it would make a reasonable boat harbor. All in all, it would be a good location for a fort."

Then I indicated a series of crosses between the central square and the big triangles that were Nyagra and Roch. "The crosses are small vassal villages along the rest of the trail - all in defensible positions. Samurai would use the fort and the villages as bases to patrol the trail, while galleys from Nyagra, Roch, and the central fort would keep the coastline clear. That would stabilize the land and sea routes between Nyagra and Roch."

By now, Jessica looked interested. "Yes, my lord, but what about the circles south of the trail - and all the arrows?"

"The circles represent the territories of the three major Creed bands. The arrows indicate troop movements. Harassing raids from Roch and the trail camps would keep the two easternmost bands pinned and distracted while a large force composed of samurai and militia from Nyagra and the surrounding region would initiate a campaign against the western-most Creed. That operation would eventually advance from west-to-east, sequentially destroying all three bands."

Jessica sat down next to me and considered my plan. Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry, my lord, but that much cooperation between Nyagra, Roch, and so many lords is impossible."

Sophie came over and handed tin cups of steaming herbal tea to Jessica and I. Then she began to sit down between us. Instead, Jessica pulled Sophie into her lap. Sophie giggled in response and settled comfortably against Jessica.

"If enough key leaders recognized the need, it could be done," I suggested mildly as I sipped from my cup.

Jessica took a moment to study my face. "You really think that this is possible?"

I smiled at her. "I know it's possible."

Jessica looked back at my crude sketch. "If it works, how many will die?"

"Many. Possibly thousands. The Creed do not die easy."

Jessica tilted her head, examining the map closer as she considered my words. "Would it be worth the cost?"

"Hundreds are killed every year because of the Creed presence. And they have been here for over a century. Yes, Blood, Folk, and Wilder will die eliminating the Creed, but after the Creed are gone the constant losses inflicted by them will cease. At some point in time, the numbers will balance."

It was an interesting conversation. Jessica was an assassin, not a soldier. Her concept of killing was far more oriented towards the personal. Something beyond that clearly made her uncomfortable. That was interesting.

Now her eyes met mine. She was obviously troubled. "That sort of math... is that what it means to be a lord?"

"Yes."

* * *

The next morning, we began moving again. By noon we were in lands controlled by the local Blood lords. We passed several samurai patrols and watch-posts. However, Christopher remained vigilant - he kept riding up and down the length of the caravan, making sure that the wagons were tightly grouped and that nobody had become too lax.

Just before nightfall, our caravan finally rolled into Roch. It was a larger town than Nyagra, but with a more worn-out and ramshackle appearance. I particularly didn't like the look of the town fortifications and militia. Say what you will about the factors of Nyagra, but they saw to the defense of their people. Roch, on the other claw, was too used to hiding behind the Blood lords that secured its perimeter. Rather than being part of a defensive alliance, Roch was a parasite. It struck me as just a matter of time before some angry and greedy alliance of the local Blood lords, or perhaps a particularly large or lucky outbreak of Creed, looted and burned the town.

In Roch's great merchant corral, the caravan broke apart. Wagons were parked, cargoes unloaded and stored in warehouses, draft animals stabled, and the guards and teamsters paid-off and dismissed. Most of them promptly bee-lined towards the concentration of bars and brothels and gambling halls that were located adjacent to the corral.

I paid a courtesy call to Christopher and once again thanked him for allowing us to join his caravan.

"I don't suppose any of your people would consider hiring on as caravan guards?" he asked me with an amused smile. The setting sun was reflecting off of his red goggles as we spoke.

I shook my head. "Sorry, but they are all a part of my company."

"So I suspected," he said as we shook hands.

As I returned to the others, I saw Jeffrey talking to the Folk healer who had been travelling with the caravan. His horse was nuzzling the healer. She had saved the horse after the fight with the Creed, and it apparently now knew her as a friend.

The caravan's Angel approached me and bowed. Her eyes were worried as she took my left hand in hers and kissed it - on the back - and then on the palm. Kissing another's hand was a common-enough gesture of respect, thanks, or fealty. However, kissing someone's palm was an offer. The Angel was trying to ensure my silence.

"There's no need for that," I told her quietly. "Visit the temple, make an offering, and all will be well. The goddesses will know your innocence."

That was mostly intended for her peace of mind. A visit to the temple should calm any remaining fears she might have.

The Angel smiled in relief and was about to say something when her eyes turned yellow-red.

* * *

"Damn it, Aunt Illyana!" I hissed as I moved to make sure the Angel's face wasn't visible to the nearest potential observers.

"This is interesting," Illyana said as she spoke through the Angel's mouth. There was a smile on her lips, and her canines seemed a bit longer than before. "This girl is telling herself that she's offering you her body out of necessity. But she's actually quite attracted to you. Daddy issues, I suppose."

"You told me that the amulet did nothing to her!"

The Angel-Illyana nodded. "And that's true. But because she touched it, I am able to make contact with her. I need to talk to you and I don't have the time to wait until you went to sleep. I was hoping this pretty little snowflake would still be nearby. Actually, she was closer than I dared hope."

"What do you want?"

"To speed your journey. Riding all the way to Alban would take weeks. You know I can accelerate that."

I took a moment to consider her words. She was right.

"You want to get your business with that demon-child finished as quickly as possible," Illyana continued. "I share your interest."

That made too much sense. "Very well," I agreed.

"Wait until the moon-rise," she ordered. "There's a hill just south of town. It has a crown of eroded rock that's very obvious. I'll meet you there."

I nodded in agreement. Then something occurred to me. "Why didn't you bring this up the last time we spoke?"

The Illyana-Angel sighed. "Because you're too damned responsible! You wouldn't leave that caravan after having agreed to help defend it! You're grandfather was a lot more willing to just walk away when circumstances required. I've said this before, and I'll say it again: you take more after your grandmother."

And then the alien color was gone from the Angel's eyes. For a moment, she looked uncertain. Then she recovered her poise and smiled at me.

"My lord," she said gratefully, "if we ever meet again, my offer still stands."

The she left. The last I saw of her, she was walking in the direction of the temple.

* * *

It was after sundown and we were on the porch of one of the town's better inns. We'd just had dinner. Benjamin and I were enjoying a dark and smokey whiskey. Jessica, Samantha, and Sophie were drinking a sweet wine. Gant was sitting on the edge of the porch, with a bucket of ale gripped in one hand as he idly watched the towns-people walk by.

From where we were sitting, we had a view of where the moon would rise. I could see the beginning of a dull white glow on that part of the horizon.

"My lord, do you really have three wives?" Samantha asked suddenly.

I nodded.

"That's a lot of wives," Samantha observed. It seemed to me that the wine had loosened her tongue.

"That's normal for a lord," Jessica told Samantha.

Benjamin spoke up. "It's been customary for some time - ever since the rule of the Great Lord. He had a Blood, a Wilder, and a Folk for wives. That's said to represent those who a lord has a duty to protect. Even to this day, many lords choose to honor the wisdom of the Great Lord in the same way."

"But aren't your wives all Wilders?" Samantha asked with a frown.

Jessica winced at Samantha's plain-spokenness.

"Perhaps I didn't plan things out very well," I informed Samantha. I couldn't help but smile.

Actually, I didn't plan a damn thing. It was as if fate saw my time as seeker drawing to a close and, after so many years of lonely wandering, chose to reward me by scattering rare jewels in my path.

"But I'm quite happy with what happened," I finished.

Samantha nodded her head in a very serious way. "How does it work when you have three wives? I mean, do you have a really big bed?"

Jessica's eyes went wide. "Samantha!" she hissed. Sophie rolled her eyes and jabbed an elbow into her sister's side. Meanwhile, Benjamin was hiding a smile behind his whiskey glass. Gant's face was absolutely serious but I could see amusement glinting in his eyes.

I held a hand up to forestall Jessica's outrage.

"They visit me on sequential nights," I told Samantha.

That was essentially true, but sometimes our evenings did become more group-oriented. Anna and Emma sometimes shared a night with me - it seemed to be part of some unspoken agreement between them. And Emma and Olivia were careful to make sure I didn't think they were ignoring me. And the three of them always cooperated to make my birthdays quite spectacular.

There was no need to mention any of that to Samantha.

"Are they very beautiful?" Samantha added.

"Yes," I answered - perhaps wistfully. Benjamin nodded in agreement. Even Gant let out an affirmative grunt - although from his point of view my wives must have seemed tiny, skinny, and strangely smooth-skinned.

"Do you miss them?"

I finished off my whiskey. The top edge of the moon had crept over the city wall.

Memories flickered through my mind. Memories of quiet conversations, loud arguments, wise advice, angry demands, gentle caresses, smooth skin, and the kind of smiles that women only grant in private...

"Yes. I miss them a great deal. Now, everyone finish up. We have to go."

* * *

What we were about to do might frighten the horses, so I thought it best that we blinker them. Also, we led the horses instead of riding them. They didn't like the limitation of their vision and became restless. However, after Gant began walking ahead of us, they focused on him and calmed down.

Just before we got to the base of the hill, I told the others, "Don't be startled by anything you'll see. We're meeting somebody who might have a very unusual appearance. She will be teleporting us to our next destination. The horses may not like it, so keep a tight grip on their reins."

Benjamin and Gant just nodded - they were used to the oddities of being in my service. Jessica and the girls didn't seem to know what to think, but were obedient.

Thankfully, when Illyana appeared in her circle of white light, she wasn't in her demonic form. Instead, she appeared as a grown woman with blonde hair and particularly striking gray-blue eyes. She was as beautiful as I remembered.

"Hello, everyone," she announced cheerfully. Her strangely over-sized sword was in her hands. Our horses caught her scent and became skittish. Gant moved among them and began murmuring soothing words. After a few seconds, they calmed down.

"This is my aunt," I told the others. "She's agreed to help us on our way."

"My lady," Benjamin said politely as he nodded his head. The others bowed. Samantha and Sophie watched Illyana very carefully. They seemed to sense something about her.

Illyana walked roughly into the middle of our party. There was a flare of white light all around us. Then a momentary reddish glow encircled us and the sulfurous stench of Illyana's realm filled the air.

We found ourselves on the bank of a large river. The moon was slightly higher in the sky than it had been just a second before. There were farm-fields to the north of us and high stands of trees to the south. A river-port village, intermittently lit by scattered torches and lanterns, was just visible on the far side of the fields. A cluster of river-boats sat idle at the docks.

I recognized it immediately. It was the village of Alban.

Illyana stepped away from us.

"Good luck," she told me.

"Thank you," I replied.

Another circle of white light flared into existence around Illyana and then rose up around her. Above the circle, her form was still visible, but below there was nothing. Within a few seconds, the circle rose above Illyana's head and she was gone. Then the circle itself blinked away.

Benjamin was giving me a long and steady look.

"Was that who I think it was?" he asked me. There was something in his voice that suggested he really didn't want to know.

"Yes," I told him.

Benjamin winced.


	46. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 13

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 13

"Who's there?!" someone called out. It was a man's voice and he was obviously angry.

We hadn't moved from where Illyana had dropped us. We were just inside a tree-line, facing an open expanse of fields. The bank of the Huds river was less than a dozen yards to our side. Someone had obviously seen the light of Illyana's teleportation circle and was investigating.

I walked out into the moonlight. The others followed me - Benjamin by my side and Gant right behind the two of us. Jessica and the girls lagged behind, leading our horses.

A young holder, dressed in rough and simple buckskin and with his claws extended, was the one who had challenged us. Behind him, his wife and an older boy and girl were racing towards us - they were also ready for a fight. Further back, a pair of Folk farmhands with simple hunting bows had arrows nocked and were carefully watching us.

"My intrusion onto your lands was unintentional," I said as evenly as possible to the holder. This place was his. Discourtesy could easily result in violence, and I did not want that.

When he saw me, the expression on the young holder's face went from angry to startled.

"Seeker James?" he said in obvious surprise.

Alban is in the upper part of the Huds river valley. Not that long ago, the valley was wracked by a short, but brutal, war. The Dark Elves returned to our world and the resultant bloodshed was considerable. The lord of Alban was one of many lords who led his samurai and militia against the Dark Elves. I was somewhat well know in the region even before the war. Afterwards, I was perhaps too well known.

"I am no longer a seeker," I replied quietly. "And I regret that I do not know your name."

"My name is Michael," the holder said as he retracted his claws and respectfully crossed his arms over his chest. "I saw you in the days after the final battle against the Dark Elf army, but we never met face-to-face."

"You were at Malekith's End?" I asked. That was what Blood historians have taken to calling the final battle against the Dark Elf king and his forces. As a people, we are proud to have rid the cosmos of the accursed king of Svartalfheim.

Oddly, I am less than proud to have been the one who actually killed Malekith. The reasons for my actions were not as clear as they should have been. That's why I was no longer a seeker.

"I was just one of many who fought there," Michael replied - which was really the only way a Blood should respond. In his voice I heard that strange mixture of pride and sadness that I'd heard so many times before. Many more had fought in that war than had returned from it. Everyone in the valley had lost family, friends, and comrades. It would take at least a generation for the holdings and villages of the Huds valley to fully recover.

And that was as I demanded. I was the seeker who called the Blood to war against Malekith. Yes, there was no real choice, but the words were still mine.

I held open my arms, and a brother that I'd never met embraced me.

* * *

Michael and his wife insisted that we spend the remainder of the night in their home. That really wasn't necessary - Alban was just as short ride away - but I couldn't courteously refuse their offer.

Michael's home was a large wooden cabin, constructed from heavy beams. He was in the process of reinforcing the cabin walls with masonry. In addition, there was a small palisade around the cabin and the nearby outbuildings.

Michael's wife had given him two birthings. Their older children - the boy and girl who had helped confront us - were in their mid-teens. Another boy and two daughters were about the same age as Samantha and Sophie. The five of them quickly became friends and began chasing each other around the cabin. It was taking some effort to calm them all down and get them into bed.

Samantha was being carried by Jessica, while Sophie giggled in my arms. Meanwhile, Michael's wife was exasperatedly shooing her youngest children back to bed for the third time.

Michael, Benjamin, and Gant were out in the yard, enjoying some of Michael's rather good winter wine, and telling each other tall tales.

"You're good with children, my lord," Michael's wife - her name was Yukio - said with a smile as she gestured at Sophie.

"I have some of my own," I told her.

And I'd had many more throughout the long years, but I saw no reason to mention that.

Then Yukio brushed her short, dark hair from her eyes. "Years ago, I saw your eldest wife perform in a tavern in Nyack. She was incredible."

That made me smile. "The next time I see Anna, I'll tell her she has an admirer here. She'll like that."

Yukio took Sophie from me with practiced ease. Then she took Samantha from Jessica. Both girls unhesitatingly hooked their arms around Yukio's neck and shoulders. Samantha was still excited, but Sophie was beginning to blink tiredly.

"I'll put these two on a rug in front of the fire," Yukio said as she hefted a girl in each arm. "But we do have a spare bed that you and your concubine can share. I'm afraid your samurai will have to make do with our stable."

"That will be fine," I reassured Yukio.

Jessica's eyebrows rose, but she didn't say anything.

* * *

Once we were alone in a tiny room that held a bed and not much more, Jessica kicked off her sandals and began pulling her simple dress over her head. For a moment, she was exposed from the waist down. She was wearing nothing underneath her dress.

I put a hand up to stop her - and then pointed to the bed.

Jessica got under the blanket, and I followed. I curled up behind her, my front to her back, and wrapped my arms around her warm body. My face was in her hair, which smelled of summer and youth. Otherwise, her scent could best be described as eager.

Spooned up against each other, we fell asleep.

* * *

The next day, we were fed a breakfast that was probably better than what Lord Alban was enjoying. Then we bade Michael and his family farewell. Sophie and Samantha were particularly sad to leave their new friends.

Jessica drifted next to me as we rode towards Alban.

"Am I to be your concubine?" she asked quietly. It was only reasonable that she wanted to get that settled.

"No," I replied.

Jessica considered that for a while. "Then why..." she began.

"Yukio made an assumption and was ordering her household on the basis of that assumption. I felt no need to contradict her decisions. And besides, if she saw that I was sleeping alone, she might have felt compelled to offer herself to me. The rules of hospitality among the Blood can be demanding for both host and guest."

That obviously surprised Jessica. "So I was your excuse to avoid going to bed with Yukio?"

"Yes."

"What was wrong with bedding her? Yukio is a handsome woman, and I would say she's taken with you. And I don't think Michael would mind. He strikes me as a man who takes his responsibilities seriously. Besides, you Blood are free with that sort of thing."

I paused before answering. Actually, that was a good question, and I'd never articulated my reasoning on the subject to anyone.

"I've never liked that custom. I think it imposes too much on holders and their wives. So I avoid the situation whenever possible."

"What if I hadn't been there?"

"Then Benjamin would have been my excuse."

Jessica actually blinked in surprise. "Oh. Uh... are you and Benjamin..."

"No."

We rode on for a while.

"Are you laughing?" I asked suddenly.

"No, my lord," Jessica said as she hastily wiped a smile from her face. Actually, I suppose the thought of Benjamin and I pretending to be lovers was more than a little funny.

We were again silent for a while.

"By the way," Jessica added very casually, "under Blood custom how does a woman become a concubine?"

"Unless I am completely separated from my wives, they would have to approve."

That made Jessica frown. "What do you think your wives would say about me?"

I considered the matter for some time before I answered.

"Emma would mind-probe you, telepathically stripping you bare and revealing every detail of your mind and soul to her scrutiny. You would be left utterly without secrets, and from then on she would unhesitatingly use what she'd found against you if you ever dared to challenge or contradict her. However, I think she would ultimately approve of your presence."

"Olivia would have a very long and serious discussion with you about religion, history, and philosphy in order to determine your character and get a sense of your long-term intentions. There might be a scourging to see how well you can handle pain and adversity. Then you would pray together for guidance. Oh, and she'd want to see how you handle yourself in personal combat, but that certainly wouldn't be a problem for you. Frankly, I'm not sure what she would decide - Olivia sometimes has otherwordly aspects to her standards."

"Anna would want to try you out - first by herself, and then together with me. But once she's expressed total sexual dominance over you, I'm sure she would be receptive to the idea of having you around. Unfortunately, there would be a hazing period of several years where you would be expected to perform submissive and degrading acts at her whim."

"Oh..." Jessica responded in a small voice.

Behind us, I could tell that Benjamin was trying his best to choke down a laugh.

Then Jessica's eyes narrowed as she looked at me. "My lord, are you teasing me?" she asked sharply.

"Yes."

"Was any of that true?!"

I just smiled.

* * *

Just before we arrived at Alban, Benjamin waited until Jessica rode off to check on Samantha and Sophie, and then took me aside.

"So how was your night with Jessica?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Her virtue - such as is left after her time as a Black Widow - remains intact."

"Does that mean you didn't bang her?" Gant asked curiously.

"Yes."

"Bad decision," Gant said with a disappointed shake of his head. "She wants you."

Benjamin looked relieved. Then he gave me a worried look. "You might want to avoid becoming too close to her."

That surprised me. "Just a few days ago you were urging me to take her for a ride. What made you change your mind?"

There was a pause as Benjamin considered his words. "Something's occurred to me. What do you know about the history of the Stace family?"

"I don't follow Spider politics," I replied, "but as I recall, there was a scandal about two or three decades ago. It resulted in a major fall from power for the Stace."

Benjamin nodded. "Back then, the Lord of the Heights was a Stace. He had a lover and the woman became pregnant. When the lord's wife found out, she left her husband. That ended the Lord of the Heights' marriage - which was also a political alliance of the Stace and Wats families. Afterwards, the Council of the Towers withdrew its support for the Stace family and the lord was forced to resign both as the Lord of the Heights and as the chief of the Stace clan."

"I never quite understood any of it," I told Benjamin frankly. "It seemed like an overreaction."

I was being polite. The Wilder are much more delicate about such things than the Blood. At the time, most Blood considered the entire incident to be completely ridiculous.

Benjamin shrugged wryly. "It was part of some complex and messy internal politics. The outcome remains controversial. In any case, the child - a baby girl - who was the cause of it all went missing."

The implication was obvious.

I raised an eyebrow at Benjamin. "Are you telling me that Jessica might be some sort of high Spider nobility?"

"Yes," Benjamin replied helplessly. "In fact, she would be among the highest."

Then Benjamin took a deep breath and let it out before continuing. "The Stace family has many followers who think that the forced abdication of the old lord was illegal. The current Lord of the Heights is unpopular and always has been. It's not unlikely that he could fall from power and the Stace family would ascend again."

"Oh, for the Old One's sake..." I growled in exasperation. "If what you suspect is true, would her family acknowledge Jessica?"

Benjamin shook his head. "No clue, my lord."

"Hey... could we kill the right people and make Jessica the Lady of the Heights?" Gant asked suddenly. He seemed rather taken with his idea.

"It would be more complex than that," Benjamin told Gant.

"Drat," Gant grumbled.

Then Gant looked at me. "There is a word among the Dark Elf masters. It means a female who is the daughter of the king - and could take his place. Do you have a word for that in your language?"

"It's 'princess'", I told Gant.

Jessica was riding ahead of us. She was chatting with Samantha and Sophie about something. I forced myself to not look at her. 'Princess' was a term from the oldest histories. A term so old that most people in the modern age didn't know it. Yet in Jessica's case, it just might be appropriate.

* * *

Four samurai clad in chain-shirts were guarding the main gate into Alban. The eldest of the samurai took one look at me, bowed politely, and waved us through the gate. As we rode on, I caught a glimpse of the gate's junior samurai sprinting towards the manor-fortress of the lord of Alban - doubtlessly carrying word of our arrival.

There was a stir among the people in the streets as we passed. The Blood and Wilder performed the crossed-arm gesture of respect. The Folk bowed.

Soon, we found ourselves at the gate to the temple compound. The white-painted bulk of the temple itself towered over the wall. A pair of temple guardsmen politely, but firmly, stopped us.

"What is your business, my lord?" a Wilder guardsmen asked. The tabard over his armor was white, as was that of all temple guardsmen. However, a flame-shaped red badge over his heart indicated that he specifically served the Lady of Fire.

"I would speak to priestess Dare," I replied.

The guardsmen nodded. "I will send word."

The gate swung open and we rode into the temple compounds' front courtyard. A pair of temple servants took our horses to a visitor's stable, while we were ushered into a stone structure that had three open sides. It was a shrine to all three of the goddesses. Stone benches gave visitors a place to sit. Due to the openess of the structure, anyone inside would find it a difficult place to defend.

There was a sudden rumble of thunder. Off to the west, I could see a dark and tormented mass of storm clouds brewing.

I knew what that meant.

I took a moment to stand before the statue of Lady Ororo. It was done in a style that was somewhat out of fashion - she was wearing a cloak and high boots instead of the flowing robes that had become more popular over the last few centuries. The sculptor's attempt to depict the wind in Ororo's hair and clothing was workmanlike, but not inspired. However, he'd had a great deal more success with her face and form.

Actually, ever since I'd actually met the spirit of the goddess in dream-form, I'd become quite critical of her representation in art. To be fair to the artists who try to depict Lady Ororo, they were all doomed to at least some level of failure. The Lady of Storms has a presence that is all but impossible to capture.

I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer.

"She's our favorite," Samantha said softly.

I looked down. The two girls were standing next to me, holding hands as they gazed up at the statue. Lady Ororo is known as a teacher and a protector of children. Many youngsters naturally gravitate to her, without quite knowing why.

"What are you asking for?" Samantha asked me.

I smiled down at the two girls. "The Lady is known for the wise counsel she always offered the Old One. Whenever I find myself facing a difficult situation, I ask her to grant me wisdom and patience."

"So do I," a quiet voice said behind us.

I'd heard Dare's approach - of course - but I'd decided not to greet her arrival with an immediate reaction. I didn't want to appear too ready for a confrontation.

Winds whipped around us as a light rain began to fall. The storm front had arrived. Off to the west, a denser body of clouds flickered with lightning. Thunder called back and forth.

I turned and politely bowed my head. Priestess Dare was standing just outside the shrine, heedless of the falling rain. She was as lovely as I remembered, with delicate features, light brown skin, and long blonde hair that she wore in an complex braid. She was clad in the black and yellow robes of a priestess of storms. When last I saw her, she was wearing a silver lightning bolt pendant around her neck, but now it was gold instead. She was no longer a junior priestess.

Normally, Dare's eyes were a striking shade of blue, but now they were an ominous dark gray, reflecting the storm above us. The goddess was with her - the storm overhead was Dare's creation. And if necessary she could use it to call down lightning.

I'd always suspected that Dare was of the lineage of Ororo herself - the similarity was definitely visible in her facial features. And she was a quite powerful mistress of storms.

She had no guards with her - no warriors, acolytes, or fellow priestesses. That surprised me, but it didn't mean that the situation wasn't dangerous. By herself, Dare was a powerful servant of the Lady of Storms. It would be most unwise to underestimate her. And considerable reinforcements were just a shout away.

Gant was standing out in the open, positioned so that he had a good view of the shrine and the surrounding structures. Benjamin had moved until he was behind my left shoulder. As he did so, he gently shifted Samantha and Sophie behind us. The two girls took the hint and retreated further into the background. In the presence of a priestess, Jessica knelt, put her palms on the stone floor of the shrine, and kept her eyes down. Perhaps that would fool Dare into thinking Jessica was just a harmless servant, but I wasn't betting on it.

"Hello, Dare," I said quietly.

"Greetings, James," she replied. "Why are you here?"

"I wish to see Ingrid and her child."

Dare considered that - and then let out a sigh. "I'd hoped it wasn't that."

Then her face hardened. "James, you can't kill them."

I was silent for a long moment, trying to decide what to say.

There was a distant flash of lightning that brightened the courtyard. For a moment, I saw another form overlaying that of Dare. It was a bit taller than her, with long white hair, darker skin, and blue eyes. Her eyes were sympathetic, but filled with warning.

Thunder crashed over us as I nodded respectfully. And then the image of Lady Ororo was gone and I was facing Dare again.

"I remember when I first met you," I finally said.

Dare didn't respond, but she did seem surprised by my words.

I continued speaking. "An arrogant child of a heretic was publicly speaking some errant nonsense. She'd been taken prisoner by the samurai of Lord Alban and was awaiting the justice of the goddess. By all rights, her life was forfeit. But you brought mercy instead of death. You saved Rahne."

A grim smile flickered across Dare's face. "James, are you suggesting that I'm too inclined towards mercy?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm saying you're inclined towards good judgement."

Dare didn't respond, but some of the tension within her seemed to slip away.

"By all rights, Ingrid and the child should have been killed," I said. "But you, Emma, and Olivia chose otherwise."

Dare nodded.

"I know what Laufey did," I continued. "I know what power he invoked. Not only is her child of the lineage of Loki, but it was conceived under the influence of Dormammu."

Dare winced at hearing the name of the dread one spoken aloud.

"Why, Dare?" I asked quietly. "For the love the goddesses and the Old One, why have you let such an abomination live?"


	47. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 14

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 14

Overhead, a storm rumbled and growled. I was standing under the cover of a shrine, but Dare was facing me from the middle of the temple's courtyard. The fact that she was standing in the rain didn't bother Dare at all - which was not suprising.

"James," Dare said cautiously. "Is there any way I can convince you to just go?"

"My wives and children are living in the same world as Ingrid's child," I pointed out.

Dare's expression indicated reluctant acknowledgement of the point I'd just made. "What if I told you that staying is the most dangerous thing you could do?"

I cocked my head at her. "Can you explain that?"

Dare pursed her lips before going on. She was obviously choosing her words with great care. "You killed Laufey Sigmundson."

"Yes, I did. And it was almost a disaster."

"So Emma told me. Do you understand what happened to you while you were within Laufey's circle of stones?"

A suspicion as to where this conversation was going suddenly seized me. Something cold seemed to trickle down my back.

"I was momentarily possessed," I replied slowly. "Something crawled inside me and I came close to killing everyone. I cut Rahne deeply - if it wasn't for her strong healing abilities, she would have died. I could just have easily done the same to Anna, and she definitely wouldn't have survived. And by then Olivia was injured and Emma was exhausted. They wouldn't have been able to put up an effective resistance against me. And it was only because they took some dangerous chances that I recovered in time."

Dare took a deep breath before continuing. "James, once you have contacted a great power..."

I suddenly recalled Illyana, the Angel, and the amulet.

"There is a connection," I finished very softly. "No matter how fleeting the contact is, some of that connection remains."

Dare just nodded in response.

I stared at Dare for a long moment. I still didn't understand exactly what was happening. It was still unfathomable to me that so many of those whom I trusted and cared for were pursuing such a dangerous course of action, but...

Then I made my decision.

"Benjamin, Gant, Jessica," I snapped. "We're leaving. Now."

I had to get out of there.

* * *

The rain kept falling. The courtyard was now seemingly abandoned except for Dare, myself, and the others. Even the gate guards had closed the gate and were standing outside.

Benjamin came up from behind me and stepped between Dare and myself. He handed me my cloak - doing his best to seem as if he was being casually respectful, rather than guarding me. His eyes searched my face. He was obviously both puzzled and deeply worried.

Gant, his expression terribly grim, also strode in my direction. To all appearances, he was simply being a good samurai, making himself available for any orders his lord might give. However, it was no coincidence that he was within clubbing range of Dare. He was also turning his head from side to side, trying to identify targets that might be otherwise hidden by the rain and in the nearby buildings.

Jessica got to her feet and headed for the stables and our horses. Samantha and Sophie trailed after her. As Jessica passed by Dare, she paused to curtsey. Samantha and Sophie did the same, but their faces were coldly expressionless as they carefully studied the priestess. For the first time, I could sense the trained killer in both of them.

However, it wasn't fated that we should be allowed to leave quietly.

Half-hidden by the rain, someone opened a simple side-door that led into the courtyard. Through the door, a small figure appeared. It was a young boy of just a few years, barefoot and clad in a patched and modified servant's tunic. By the boy's side - holding his hand - there was a hooded figure wearing a nondescript traveller's cloak. The boy seemed surprised by what was happening, but then he ignored everyone else in the courtyard as he began staring at me.

Dare followed my gaze and saw the boy. "No..." I heard her whisper involuntarily.

In the boy, I could see a resemblance to Ingrid. Which meant that I also saw a strong echo of Loki himself.

But it was in his eyes - suddenly inquisitive and serious - where I saw his true nature. Those eyes were not as I expected. They were in a much younger form, but they were still the eyes of an old friend.

I finally understood why the boy had been allowed to live.

The hooded figure released the boy's hand. Still peering at me through the rain, the child began to slowly walk towards me.

Then the hooded figure stepped back and closed the door behind him, leaving the boy out in the courtyard with Dare and I. Given his importance, it seemed incredible that the boy had somehow slipped away from his mother and whoever else that had been tasked with guarding him. But I suspected that particular child was quite strange.

The door to the servant's quarters flew open once again and Ingrid suddenly appeared. She was also dressed as a servant and there was a frantic expression on her face. She ran over to her boy and grabbed him by his shoulders. She obviously intended to drag him out of the courtyard.

But by then it was too late. I'd seen the boy. And something else had seen him through my eyes.

There was an other-wordly clap of sensation - like a combined howl of recognition and triumph - and a blazing pillar of fire erupted in the middle of the courtyard. A sudden impulse of heat washed over us as the rain began to hiss and pop against the column of flame. Steam gushed out from the flame as the temperature rose a dozen degrees in a second.

The pillar of fire began to writhe and convulse. It was a gateway, and something was using it to try and force its way into our world.

Dormammu knew about the boy. And he was murderously interested.

Demons began appearing in the courtyard.

* * *

The demons were at least eight foot tall, broadly built and heavily muscled, with skin that was gray and rubbery. However, it was their faces that were their most appalling feature. There was no mouth, nose, or ears. Instead, a single, cyclopean, eye - a thick slit of red that spanned most of the width of the head - dominated an otherwise featureless face.

Long ago, Ancient Strange had described those creatures to me. He'd called them 'Mindless Ones'. They were the minions of Dormammu himself.

One appeared next to Gant, and Gant didn't even hesitate. With a brutal swing of his club, he smashed the creature flat. The demon lay on the cobblestones of the courtyard, the side of its head caved in and its crushed eye leaking strange fluids.

Dare finally recovered from being surprised, called out the name of the goddess, and her lightning began to fall. After that, it was impossible to hear anything but the crash of thunder. Giant gray bodies began flying through the rain - shredded and burned by Dare's lightning.

I sprinted for Ingrid and the boy, splashes of puddled rainwater springing up as I ran. Benjamin leaped over and past me. Just before he landed, a mindless one seized Ingrid by the arm - her arm bend unnaturally as the bone snapped - and threw her half-way across the courtyard. Meanwhile, Benjamin landed between the mindless one and the boy. I leaped forward and buried my claws into the creature's massive back. It recoiled soundlessly. Then Benjamin whirled his swords and the demon's throat gaped wide. There was no gush of blood. Instead, a thin orange liquid slowly oozed from the wound. It smelled strangely acidic.

Other mindless ones approached. I yanked my claws free and turned to face them, keeping the boy behind me. Benjamin was by my side.

Meanwhile Dare's lightning kept falling. As I engaged another demon, I glanced at her. Gant was covering Dare - making sure that none of the demons got too close to the priestess. Dare was tall for a woman, but she looked like a child next to Gant.

With a roar, Gant swung his club. Rainwater sprayed from it in a long arc until the club smashed into a mindless one. The demon careened off to the side, one of its arms shattered and broken ribs jutting out of its chest.

The massive courtyard gate began opening with painful slowness. A temple guard squeezed through the widening gap - and then another. They immediately found themselves locked in battle with three of the mindless ones.

At that moment, Jessica made a titanic leap and landed next to me in a mighty splash of water. She had Samantha and Sophie under each arm. A mindless one rushed at them. Jessica dropped the girls and jumped straight up, somersaulting in mid-air as she kicked the mindless one with both feet and knocked it onto its back. When she landed, Jessica caught the shortsword Benjamin threw at her and used it to slash into another demon.

Samantha and Sophie drew their daggers and swarmed over the demon that Jessica had knocked down. Samantha was trying to hamstring its legs, while Sophie sliced deeply into tendons just inside of one of the demon's elbows. The rainwater splashing around the girls and the downed demon suddenly turned reddish-orange.

I finished gutting the mindless one that was facing me - it staggered aimlessly away, trying to stuff long and greasy trails of intestines back inside itself. Then I crouched next to the thrashing demon that Samantha and Sophie were fighting and put my left-hand claws into the demon's single eye. The creature's eye burst, splattering me with some sort of ichor. The creature stiffened and went still.

Rising back to my feet, I bellowed to Samantha and Sophie, "Protect the boy!" It was the only thing I could think of that would absolutely attract their attention and keep them out of the worst of the fight.

The two girls immediately dashed for the boy.

Lightning was still crashing into the demons - Dare was actually doing more damage to the monsters than anyone else in the courtyard. More than a few strikes also impacted into the pillar of flame, driving back whatever it was that was trying to come through. However, more mindless ones continued to appear.

The main door to the temple itself opened and an elderly and white-haired priestess of Blades - her name was Carol and she was the mistress of the temple - dashed out into the courtyard. She was wearing robes instead of armor, but the katana she was wielding whirled into the first demon she encountered with deadly efficiency. Behind her, a dozen-or-so acolytes and guardsman followed. A wide-eyed and obviously frightened Fire acolyte picked up a mindless one with telekinesis. For a moment, it writhed in mid-air, but then the priestess smashed it against the courtyard wall with so much force that the demon burst messily apart in a spray of ruptured flesh, broken bone, and shattered stone.

In the midst of those reinforcements was an unfamiliar woman wearing the distinctive cloak of House Strange. She took a moment to unleash a bolt of magical energy that sent a nearby demon flying over the temple wall. It was aflame as it tumbled head-over-foot in a long arc that I estimated would end in the river.

Ripping open the throat of the demon I was fighting, I backed away from its collapsing body. With a quick glance over my shoulder, I could see Ingrid's boy. Samantha and Sophie were standing protectivly on either side of him, with their small daggers in their hands. All three children were soaked by the pouring rain.

As I watched, Ingrid's boy seemed to peer carefully around the courtyard. Then he made a series of strangely fluid gestures with his hands. His mouth was moving, but there was no way I could hear him speak. That really wasn't important, since I'm sure I wouldn't have understood the language he was speaking. Around the boy, a halo of red and blue energies appeared. Then those energies almost immediately formed into circles that began orbiting his body. Arcane sigils appeared in the air around him.

Obviously startled, Samantha and Sophie edged away.

Then the spell that the boy was weaving reached its climax...

The pillar of fire dominating the center of the courtyard simply vanished. After that, the mindless ones began - one-by-one - to pop out of existence. Even the dead and wounded demons disappeared.

Within a few seconds, the enemy was gone. Baffled priestesses, acolytes, and temple guardsmen were left standing in a courtyard that just a few seconds before had been a vicious battlefield.

Dare made a two-handed cutting gesture and the last of her lightning - focused on where the pillar of fire had been - stopped. The rain slowed, but didn't go away. Gant was still guarding Dare. I saw her put a hand on Gant's arm and say something to him that I couldn't quite make out. A troll can't blush, but Gant came very close. Then he gave her a hasty bow.

Across the courtyard, an acolyte helped Ingrid to her feet. She was battered and bruised, and one of her arms was broken, but she was still able to move haltingly. After all, she was Asgardian-blooded and they are a resilient bunch.

I crouched down until I was roughly at eye-level with Ingrid's boy. Then I cupped some rainwater that had pooled onto the ground in my hands and used it to wash demonic ichor from my hands and face. I wanted him to recognize me.

In face and form, the boy was just that - a boy. His face was wet and his hair bedraggled, but in his eyes I could see so much more.

Through the boy's eyes, the spirit of someone I'd thought to be dead and gone looked back at me.

"Hello, Stephen," I said softly. My ears were ringing so badly from the thunder that I could barely hear my own voice.

"Hello, James," he replied with a very familiar smile, actually I more read his lips than heard him speak. "We seem to have a problem here."

Then he reached a small hand out to me. I took it in mine and squeezed gently.

And then - just before Ingrid arrived and awkwardly scooped up her boy in one arm - Stephen vanished from the boy's eyes. Now there was just a frightened child looking back. He drew back from me, but Sophie put a comforting arm around him.

Samantha said something, but I couldn't make it out. I tapped one of my ears.

"He's a strange one," Samantha said more loudly. Sophie nodded in anxious agreement.

Getting to my feet, I smiled grimly down at the girls.

"You're more correct than you know," I told them.


	48. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 15

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 15

The storm - Dare's storm - dissipated with unnatural quickness and within moments the sun reappeared to reclaim the sky.

The temple's courtyard was scarred and scorched by lightning, and the air stank of ozone, burnt stone, blood, demonic fluids, and human fear. More than a few of the temple's defenders were injured during the battle with the demons. A pair of temple healers clad in white robes had appeared and were quietly seeing to the wounded. At least two servants of the Goddesses - a Blade acolyte and a Wilder guardsman - were beyond help.

Like everyone else, my ears were ringing from the din of thunder, but at least I could still hear.

The mage from House Strange had confronted me. Her name was Cynthia and she was quite angry.

"The situation was under control until you arrived!" she snapped at me. In my experience, mages are a mouthy lot. Cynthia probably thought she was showing admirable restraint.

Beside me, Benjamin stiffened and his face went cold. Jessica had a very different expression. It was more like a cat patiently waiting for some prey to wander too close. Gant - standing out in the courtyard, still watching over Dare - tapped the butt of his club against the ground. That was a customary warning among his people. It was a suggestion that somebody should shut up.

Even Samantha and Sophie shifted in a manner that suggested they were disturbed by Cynthia's plain-spokeness. The daggers in their hands shifted as they looked at me expectantly.

I held up a hand to calm them down. The situation didn't call for violence.

"You were in control of nothing," I responded flatly. "How did Ste... how did the boy end up in the courtyard?"

Cynthia was about to make what looked like a dangerously hot response when Dare walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. Regaining control of herself, Cynthia subsided.

All eyes were on Ingrid. The boy was standing in front of her and she was clutching him close with her unbroken arm. The boy was gazing up at me. He looked more curious than frightened. I could see no sign within him of the spirit that had been present just moments earlier.

"My lord, please!" Ingrid begged, her face white with fear and pain.

"What's his name?" I asked quietly.

As I intended, my question seemed to calm Ingrid. Unless identification is an issue, people are generally uninterested in the names of those they plan on murdering.

"Sigmund," Ingrid replied.

So Ingrid had named the boy after her murdered father. Whatever else Ingrid's father had done with his life, whatever powers he had served, and whatever stain there might have been on his blood, he'd still left behind a daughter who cherished his memory. That was as it should be.

"The boy is in no danger from me," I told Ingrid. "And I will do everything in my power to protect him."

Cynthia and Dare exchanged a glance as they realized that perhaps I wasn't quite as clueless as they'd thought.

I could see hope suddenly kindling in Ingrid's eyes. It was then that I realized that she'd spent long years dreading the day when I would finally come for her and her boy. Of course, her fear had been justified. Only a few minutes earlier, I had every intention of killing her and her son.

"Ingrid, what happened?" Carol - the senior priestess of the temple - asked as she approached. A retinue of guardsman and acolytes surrounded her.

Ingrid bowed before answering. "We were in the servant's quarters, my lady. I was told to stay out of sight while priestess Dare talked with the seeker. Then... then I remember nothing. The next thing I knew, Sigmund was gone. I guessed he was going towards the courtyard and ran after him. When I found him, Sigmund was with a man in a cloak. He pushed Sigmund out into the courtyard."

"Who was he?" Dare interrupted.

Ingrid shook her head. "I don't know. He was taller than me, but slender for a man. I caught just a glimpse of his face. He had green eyes and he was smiling at me. I've never seen him before."

I growled irritably. Benjamin was the only one who caught it - he gave me a worried glance.

"Bar the gates. Search the grounds," Carol told her senior guardsman. He was standing behind her right shoulder.

The elder guardsman instantly nodded and began giving purposeful orders. The guardsmen in the courtyard quickly scattered in different directions.

Then Carol looked expectantly at the young Fire priestess who'd accompanied her during the fight in the courtyard. The priestess closed her eyes and began concentrating. I could feel a ripple of psychic energy as she began scanning the area with her mind.

I found myself hoping that she wouldn't find her target. It wouldn't go well for her if she did. I knew who the hooded figure was, but I just didn't understand what kind of game Loki was playing.

* * *

The Fire priestess eventually looked at Carol and shook her head. She'd found nothing.

A guardsman poked his through the gate. "Priestess Carol!" he called out, "Lord Alban's samurai are here!"

"Oh, just fuck this," I heard Carol whisper to herself. The issue of a lord's samurai setting foot on temple grounds was always a sensitive one, but they could hardly be blamed for investigating an obvious battle in the midst of their lord's village.

"Admit them," Carol said in a louder tone. The gate guard vanished back outside. Within seconds, the massive gate slowly swung open.

A dozen armored samurai, the badges of Lord Alban on their chain-shirts, poured into the courtyard and fanned out. They were obviously ready for trouble.

A senior samurai was in the lead. When he saw us, he held up a clawed fist, indicating to the samurai behind him that they should halt.

There was a frozen moment as it sank in that there was no immediate battle to be fought. The samurai all took in the obvious signs of a recent skirmish. Then the senior samurai realized that many of those facing him were persons of rank. Quickly transitioning from war to diplomacy, he retracted his claws and carefully gave us a cross-armed bow.

"Seeker James, we heard a... a disturbance," he explained to me. I suppose "disturbance" was as reasonable a way as any to describe a head-long, bloody, and lightning-strewn battle against other-worldly monstrosities.

There was a stir from among the temple staff. The fact the samurai was addressing me instead of Carol was technically correct for a Blood samurai - although it was based on a misunderstanding about my status - but that didn't mean that the temple had to like it.

"There was a problem and it has been settled," I told the senior samurai. "Your quick response is noted, but your presence is not required."

The senior samurai continued to show admirable restraint. He jerked his head backwards and the other samurai began withdrawing back through the gate. However, the senior samurai remained where he was.

"At your convenience, Seeker James, the lord requests your presence," he informed me.

"I'll see Lord Alban as soon as possible," I told him. "Please send my apologies for not being more prompt, but I have vital matters to settle here."

The senior samurai bowed once again and then followed his men out the gate.

* * *

After Lord Alban's samurai left, I looked at Carol.

"It would be best if I understood what's going on when I meet Lord Alban," I pointed out.

Carol gave an abrupt nod, and then turned to look at Dare and Cynthia. "Talk to the man," she ordered.

Then Carol glanced back at me. "I have to see to my people."

"Of course," I replied.

As Carol - a gore-streaked blade still in hand and demonic blood staining her robes - stalked off to consult with the healers, I gave Dare an expectant look.

"Let's find somewhere private to talk," Dare said in a resigned voice.

Cynthia was back to looking angry again.

* * *

We withdrew deep inside the temple itself, ending up in a small audience chamber. Long ago, Dare and I had discussed Rahne's fate in that room. Not too far away was the sleeping chamber where Emma and I had made love for the first time. The image of Emma, dressed as a humble Folk handmaiden as she gracefully slipped out of her clothes and got into our cot, wandered through my mind. It took some effort to dispel it.

I wished Emma was with me. I needed her wisdom and advice.

"This is difficult to explain," Dare began slowly.

The conversation needed to speed up. "The spirit of Ancient Strange is in the boy," I told her.

Stephen Strange - the Sorcerer Supreme of our world for many centuries - had perished just a few short years ago. In fact, he died fighting in the final battle against Malekith.

Cynthia looked startled. "How did you..." she began.

Dare gave her a dour look. "James was a seeker for a very long time, Cynthia. He knows more about the spirit world than either of us would care to imagine."

Whatever else she might be, Cynthia wasn't the kind of person who refused to accept a truth she didn't like. "You're right, Lord James," she admitted. "Ancient Strange is still with us. And if we can keep the boy safe long enough, then the true Sorcerer Supreme - in his full power - will return to us."

After Ancient Strange's death, a mage named Cyrus had assumed Stephen's mantle. And it was no insult to the man when I wondered if he were up to the task. To be the Sorcerer Supreme was an awesome burden. And there were inimical forces lurking in the threshold between reality and not-reality that only a true Sorcerer Supreme could defend our world against.

"Stephen wouldn't allow the boy's death," I said thoughtfully. "So he did the only thing he could to prevent it. As he himself was dying, he merged his spirit with that of the boy."

Dare nodded in agreement. "The mages of House Strange detected it immediately. They contacted the temple and warned us against killing Ingrid and the boy. You were not told because we feared that an elder power had left some residue of itself within you, and if you saw the boy it would know that Ancient Strange was still with us."

"It appears that our fear were well-founded," Cynthia added.

"But now Dormammu knows," I said grimly. "He knows about the boy and about Ancient Strange."

Both Dare and Cynthia winced at my use of the Dread One's name.

"I don't understand who led the boy into the courtyard," Cynthia fretted.

"It was Loki," I said distractedly. I was trying to decide what to do next.

For a long moment, Cynthia and Dare just stared at me.

"Loki?! How?!" Dare eventually sputtered.

"He led me here," I replied. "For whatever reason, he wants Dormammu to know about the boy."

Cynthia looked distinctly ill. "What do we do now?" she asked resignedly.

Dare and I had no answer to that question.


	49. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 16

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 16

"You want me to abandon the shrine," Carol said slowly. The expression on her face suggested that she thought I was out of my mind.

"Yes, honored lady - for a brief while," I replied politely. I was asking a considerable boon from Carol. Some extra courtesy surely couldn't hurt.

Or maybe not. Carol shot an angry look in my direction. "I know your kind of man, Lord Ashe," she snarled. "You're never more dangerous than when you're being polite! What are you up to?!"

"I'm not sure what to do next," I admitted. "So I am seeking a sign. A place of power - like a temple shrine - would improve my chances of accomplishing that. Also, solitude helps. However, I plan on entering the spirit world, and there is always some danger in that, so it would be best if nobody else was around."

"Forgive my confusion, lord Ashe," Carol said bluntly, "but are you a seeker, or are you a lord?"

That was a good question. If I was a seeker, the priestesses of the three goddesses owed me some deference. If I was just a delusional lord with a big mouth, they owed me much less.

I chose not to answer her question. "An incredibly dangerous force is at the gates of our world, Priestess Carol. I won't apologize for seeking help."

Once I finished, Carol stared at me for a long moment. Then she closed her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Like all Blade priestesses, her hands were strong and calloused from innumerable hours of practice with a sword. Since she was Folk, there were also scars covering her hands and arms. The tip of one of her fingers was missing - lost long ago in some battle or training mishap.

"The shrine is yours," she said tiredly.

* * *

As the courtyard emptied of life, I sat cross-legged in the middle of the shrine. The statues of the three goddesses were to my front and sides. Lady Grey faced me. Lady Ororo was to my right. The tripartite Lady of Blades - Elektra, Elizabeth, and Laura - was to my left.

Jessica and the girls entered the shrine. Sigmund was tagging along with them - he was a couple of years younger than Samantha and Sophie, but they were obviously becoming attached to each other. The four of them were carrying rounded stones that they'd gathered from the river.

I indicated that the stones should be placed before me.

"My lord, what are these for?" Samantha asked as she wiped her hands dry on her dress. She seemed confused and perhaps worried. From the point of view of her and her companions, I was acting even odder than usual.

"They are the Old One," I told Samantha as I carefully stacked the stones in ascending order, with the largest at the base and the smallest on top.

Jessica knelt next to me, her eyes alight with curiousity as she helped me balance the final stone. "I've seen this before," she told Samantha. "The Blood do it to symbolize their god."

"The Old One is not a god," I corrected Jessica gently.

Jessica hesitated - and then nodded. "Pardon me, my lord. I meant no offense."

"I know," I reassured her.

"Benjamin and Gant are waiting just outside the gate," Jessica added. "They're besides themselves with worry. They want to defend you."

"Of course they do," I told her. "They are good samurai, Jessica. In fact, I could not ask for better."

That made Jessica smile.

"I've never seen a statue of the Old One," Samantha said suddenly. "Statues of the goddesses, yes. But not the Old One. Is it forbidden, my lord?"

I shook my head. "Not really. My father was present when the Old One died and in later years he piled seven stones to mark that place. Ever since that day, the Blood have followed my father's example. I suppose we just don't feel that an actual statue is necessary."

One of Jessica's blonde eyebrows elevated in a way that oddly reminded me of Olivia. "Your father?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Your father was alive at the same time as the Old One?" Jessica persisted.

"Yes."

"He must have lived a very long time," Jessica said thoughtfully.

"Not particulary. He and my mother were killed in the final Sinister war. They led the attack into Sinister's last fortress. My father was a ninety-five years old. My mother was a hundred and twelve."

I was perhaps becoming too talkative, but I had a great deal on my mind.

My words were the truth, but Jessica and Samantha didn't quite understand the full implication of what I'd just said. On the other claw, Sophie's eyes were wide as she stared at me. She understood how many centuries had passed since the downfall of Sinister. As I'd come to suspect, silent little Sophie was something of a scholar.

A thought occurred to me. Then I smiled at Samantha and Sophie. "How would you two like to go to a formal school? With teachers, classrooms, and books?"

Samantha rolled her eyes in obvious disdain, but an eager expression suddenly appeared on Sophie's face.

I glanced back at Jessica. "If something happens and I'm unable to take care of it myself, tell Benjamin to see that the girls get as much schooling as they can stomach. There is a Folk scholar named Henry in Nyagra - his academy would be a good choice. Oh... and Samantha has to attend school for at least a year before she's allowed to leave."

The expression on Samantha's face turned horrified.

"No, my lord," Jessica said softly. "Return safe from whatever you are about to do and you can take care of it yourself."

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Disobedience, Jessica? How unseemingly. And how like you."

Jessica took my right hand in her own and kissed both the back and palm.

"My lord, I look forward to meeting your wives," she told me firmly.

"Get going," I ordered.

As they left, I returned to my meditations. It had been a long time since I'd sought the spirit world so directly.

* * *

Dare was my next visitor. She was carrying several small packages.

"Is this a good idea?" she asked me skeptically.

I shook my head. "No, but at the moment it is all I have."

Dare let out a long sigh. Getting on her knees, she unwrapped the packages, creating several piles from the dried herbs contained with them. Then she built a small fire between me and the stones that represented the Old One. The fire was made of wood shavings mixed with the dried herbs. It was almost smokeless, but its tart scent quickly wafted throughout the shrine.

"Good luck," Dare whispered. Then, after a brief pause, she kissed me on the forehead and left.

* * *

My eyes were closed as I considered the past, present, and future. I breathed slowly and deeply, taking in the potent fumes of the scented fire. Everything seemed to drift away.

I wasn't in the spirit world yet, but I was at its threshold.

That was a good time to reflect on what had been, what was, and what might be.

* * *

Once, I'd carried within me part of the Old One's spirit. And it was that spark which drove me to find and serve the will of the Old One. I wandered through the world of the Blood, the Wilder, and the Folk, trying to defend that which must be defended, and change that which must be changed.

And, of course, to kill that which must be killed. Never forget: seekers are ultimately the servants of a predator.

A seeker's path is a lonely one. Friends are few. Family and a home is impossible. Possessions are a distraction. And your will is so often not your own.

But when I called the Blood of the Huds valley to war... when I killed Malekith... I was merely paralleling the will of the Old One, not serving it. Actually, I was committing an act of personal vengeance.

With Malekith's death, I was no longer a seeker. I'd lost the spark of the Old One that was within me. Fortunately, it passed on to someone far more worthy. Rahne was a superb seeker. And yet I hoped that she would also eventually fall from the Old One's path. I wanted her to someday lay down her burden and return to being a woman. My last few years, filled with wives and children, had been happy beyond words. I hoped Rahne would eventually find that kind of joy.

Rahne is a daughter of my heart. I would consider her children to be my grand-children.

But enough of that... I had to give up on the common desires and hopes of a man.

Casting aside the ordinary flesh-and-blood world, I crossed the threshold and set myself adrift among the spirits.

There was a sound like a bell and I opened my eyes.

* * *

_Stephen had appeared from nowhere and he was sitting across from me. The cairn that represented the Old One was between us and his back was to the statue of the Lady of Fire. A curling tendril of fine smoke from the fire was drifting above his head._

_He was clad in the blue-and-black garb of the Sorcerer Supreme. However, he wasn't wearing the distinctive cape of House Strange, and the Eye of Agamotto wasn't around his neck._

_And he was much younger than when I'd last seen him. He appeared as a darkly handsome man in his early middle years, not as the ancient figure who'd spent so many long centuries defending our world against all manner of mystical threats._

_He was staring out at nothing - his eyes fixed on something seemingly just above my head._

_"Stephen?" I asked quietly._

_His eyes flickered. And suddenly Stephen Strange was looking directly at me._

_"How long do we have until Dormammu tries to kill you again?" I asked._

_Stephen shook his head. "I'm not sure. Perhaps a day. Perhaps a week. I can stave him off again, but killing me is now Dormammu's major goal, so he'll simply keep coming. And at this point, I'm not strong enough to lock him out completely. He will eventually break into our world."_

_I smiled bleakly at my old friend. "Dr. Strange, you seem to have well and truly pissed off the Dread One."_

_Stephen actually laughed. "Seeker James, it comes with the job description."_

_"Loki is interfering," I added seriously. "He exposed you to me - and to Dormammu. Any idea why?"_

_There was a pause as Stephen considered his reply. "I'm not sure. Loki obviously has a plan. And I imagine he's forcing us to advance it. We can expect his plan to have multiple levels and goals."_

_I let out a long sigh. "I knew that mother-fucker was using me. I just had no idea of the sheer scale of what he was doing."_

_Stephen made a tsking sound. "James, I have met the Queen of Asgard. The term you just used is wildly inappropriate."_

_"If I'm alive after this, I'll find an altar to Thor and apologize."_

_"That would be wise."_

_I could see the signs of increasing strain on Stephen's face. Communicating with me was becoming difficult for him._

_"Is there anything else?" I asked._

_But by then, something had changed in Stephen's face. He blinked several times in confusion._

_He was slipping away._

_"I must go home," he said slowly._

_Blasted mages - they always leave their audience hanging._

_"Return to the land of the dead, Stephen," I sighed. "I hope we meet again."_

_Then he simply vanished._

* * *

_Suddenly, I was no longer in the shrine._

_Instead, I was sitting in a grassy park. In front of me, there was a large manor-house, although it struck me as woefully under-fortified. A large number of Wilder - almost all of them children and young adults- were in the area. They were dressed strangely and chattering back-and-forth in a tongue that I almost didn't recognize at first._

_Actually, it was my tongue - the words I spoke back when I was a boy. But in the modern age it had become a strangely-accented dialect. After so many years, at first it was almost foreign to me._

_Almost all of the youngsters were carrying books. Some were reading. Many were playing and flirting. More than a few were merely staring at small rectangular objects that they held in their hands. They seemed so intent that I wondered if they were engaged in some sort of religious devotion._

_I gasped as I suddenly realized where and when I was._

_It was a place most holy to both Blood and Wilder. It was the ancient school of the Crippled Lord._

_As I watched, a tall and beautiful woman came out of the manor's back door. She was clad in green and white, with a hood hanging from her shoulders. Her auburn hair had a flamboyant streak of white running down the middle._

_My grandmother smiled and then waved at me. I returned her wave as I fought down the tears that suddenly appeared in my eyes. The spirit world can be both cruel and kind. Often, it can be both simultaneously._

_"We always did our best, Jimmy!" she called to me. "No matter what, we did our best for the kids! Remember that."_

_Still smiling, my grandmother turned and re-entered the manor._

* * *

_The manor vanished._

_Now, I was on top of a tall and broad hill. It had a spectacular view of the valley down below._

_Over the years, I've had so many homes. That place was once one of them, but now it only consisted of shrines and grave-markers. Even the foundation of the manor that I'd once built there was gone._

_Someone was sitting next to me. I hadn't sensed her approach. Instead, she had simply appeared._

_It was Sarah. My very first wife, from back in the days when I was a very different kind of lord. Everything about her was just as I remembered - her red hair, gray eyes, and the heart of her face._

_She was wearing a red and green cloak. I recognized it. I had given it to her to on the day of our wedding. It was all that a poor wandering ronin who was far better at fighting than he was at saving money could afford to give to the noble lady - of the House of Grey, no less! - who had lowered herself to marry him._

_"James..." Sarah said to me as she took my face in her hands._

_"Sarah..." I whispered to her, just before our lips met._

_I missed her so much. Our joining seemed to go on forever. It was a kiss stolen from time and death._

_"There's a problem," Sarah said softly, once our lips finally parted._

_That was an understatement. I nodded, but said nothing in reply._

_"A plan has occurred to Dare," Sarah continued slowly, "but it's quite dangerous."_

_"What?" I asked warily._

_Sarah took a deep breath and then let it out. Then she looked up and gazed unblinkingly up at the sun._

_"It's occurred to her that there's something she can do," Sarah said thoughtfully. "It is, after all, possible to summon a force so powerful that it could defeat - or even destroy - Dormammu himself."_

_Then I realized what Sarah was talking about. "No," I said flatly._

_After a helpless shrug, Sarah turned to face me. "There may be no choice. And if it's occurred to her, it will occur to others. If Dormammu breaks through to our world and begins corrupting and killing everyone and everything, sheer desperation will force someone to try."_

_"Perhaps," I responded, "but we aren't there yet. Summoning the Phoenix is not a solution, and it very well could be a most final ending. Yes, Dormammu might very well be destroyed, but a battle of that magnitude would inevitably force the Phoenix into full awareness. What happens after that is anyone's guess. And the Phoenix has more than once carved a trail of mayhem and destruction across our world - and the stars themselves."_

_Sarah said nothing. Her eyes were now like brilliant emeralds as they studied me. Sparks of flame seemed to dance deep within them._

_A bolt of fear suddenly shot through me. I knew those eyes._

_"If all else fails, I will intervene," she told me. "Better to destroy the world than see it taken by Dormammu. It would be a far cleaner end."_

_Once more, her lips met mine. And then the Phoenix was gone._

* * *

_A Blood lord, clad in scarred and rent armor, appeared next._

_We were on a hill that footed a tall, snow-swept, mountain. The mountain was one of a range that seemed to straddle the earth to either side of us. On the hill and the flank of the mountain, a battle was taking place between a vast force of Blood and what appeared to be a horde of Wilder. For some reason, the sound of the battle was muted and ghostly. We should have been deafened by the din, but were not._

_The lord pulled off his helmet, revealing a sweat-streaked face._

_"Father," I said sadly. Even after so long - so many years - I still felt his loss._

_"Hey, Jimmy," he said with the smile that I remembered so well. My father was slender and dark-eyed. His hair was a long and narrow strip that ran along the crest of his skull. That was a trait that occasionally appears in the men of my family. I had a half-uncle who was particularly known for it._

_"The mortal world is in danger," I told him._

_"I know, Jimmy," he replied with a nod. "But remember this: you have to take the boy back to his strange beginning."_

_I considered that carefully. "His strange beginning?" I repeated._

_"Yep," my father said. However, he seemed distracted. He was obviously listening to the oddly distant sounds of battle. Then he grunted and pulled his helmet back on._

_"Don't go," I said - even though that was foolish and impossible._

_"Sorry, Jimmy, but your mom needs me," he told me._

_And then he was gone._

* * *

_Suddenly, I found myself down by the river, on the Alban docks._

_Now that Dare's storm was gone, it was turning into a fine day. I'd been too busy to notice._

_The Old One was as I remembered him. He is a short and white-haired Blood with a grimly forbidding appearance. His clothing is a mixture of the familiar and the slightly odd - a pair of denim pants, heavy brown boots, and a dark leather jacket over a sleevelss, white cotton, shirt. At first glance, he wouldn't seem odd to anyone who saw him wandering down the streets of Alban. But on second glance, you might notice some oddities in his dress. In particular, his leather jacket was strangely cut._

_At the moment, the Old One was sitting on an unused dock, with a fishing pole in hand. His line dangled in the water. Oddly, the cairn that I'd built in the shrine was also on the dock. It was right behind the Old One._

_"Sit down," the Old One said without looking at me._

_I did as told. Then I took a moment to enjoy the sun and the scent of the river and the nearby farm fields._

_"Jimmy, you know that calling the spirits like this is risky," the Old One told me. As he spoke, he kept his eyes on the cork bobber of his line._

_"I'm not doing it lightly."_

_"Jeannie answered your call. That could have gone bad. Really bad."_

_I knew that, but hearing the Old One say it was for some reason even more unnerving. Perhaps it was the unspoken suggestion that even he was wary of the potential for disaster that my actions represented. Despite the warmth of the day, I suddenly felt cold._

_Then the Old One finally looked at me. "You have things to say, so spit it out, kid."_

_I let out a sigh. "Dormammu is at the gates. Ancient Strange's spirit is locked in the body of a part-Asgardian boy. Loki is meddling. The situation is calamitous."_

_The Old One nodded grimly._

_"A word or two of advice might help," I suggested._

_Then a faint smile flickered across the Old One's face. "Just like always, Jimmy, it comes down to heroes. Earth needs her Sorcerer Supreme."_

_"Someone has the job at the moment."_

_"What do you think of him?"_

_I didn't hesitate. "Cyrus is a brave man and a powerful sorcerer. I suspect Ancient Strange was grooming Cyrus as his replacement, but Strange's death came too soon - and that's my fault. Cyrus just isn't ready yet, but I think he'll die trying to prove otherwise."_

_The Old One nodded in agreement._

_"When Strange died, he put some or all of his soul into Ingrid's boy," I continued. "The mages of House Strange apparently decided to keep that as a secret backup plan. Eventually, Ancient Strange himself - or at least some part of him - would return. But Loki intervened before the joining of Stephen and Sigmund reached maturity. As a result, Dormammu knows what's happening and now he's determined to kill Sigmund and eliminate the last mortal remnant of Ancient Strange."_

_"What's Loki's game?" the Old One asked. "Why did he butt in?"_

_"No idea."_

_The Old One nodded grimly. "And that's something else to worry about. Guess what, Jimmy? You're back on the clock as a seeker. So get to work."_

_"I'm not giving up my family," I said flatly. The words were out of my mouth before I even considered them._

_The Old One shook his head. "I didn't ask you to. Hell, I don't want you to. But you need to follow the signs, grandson."_

_I took a deep breath before replying. "Yes, grandfather," I agreed._

_Then we both fell silent for a while._

_"Few people are more familiar with your lore than I am," I said eventually, "but I don't recall ever hearing or reading that you were a fisherman."_

_He just shrugged. "Like most people, I learned when I was young. After that, I didn't always have the time."_

_"Besides," the Old One added, "there's some symbolism going on here. The Folk used to talk about somebody called the Fisher King. I've sort of taken over that job."_

_I didn't know what he was talking about._

* * *

Back in the courtyard, I opened my eyes. It was near sundown. I'd been among the spirits for much of the day.

Near the gate, Illyana was leaning against the wall as she munched on an apple. This time, her form was demonic - with horns and cloven hooves - as she gazed at me. Her eerie, yellow-red eyes seemed to peer right through me.

After talking a deep breath, I carefully got to my feet.

"What's your part in this, Aunt Illyana?" I asked.

Fangs glinted as she smiled at me. "Did you know that Stephen was once my master and teacher?"

"Yes," I replied as I stretched painfully. My bones ached from all the time I'd sat motionless.

"There was even some talk that I might someday become the Sorcerer Supreme."

"You would have been magnificent."

Illyana snorted. "It would have been a catastrophe. I'm accursed, Jimmy, and because of that I would have destroyed the world. That's why I didn't even think about taking the job."

"You're being over-dramatic. By the way, did you know about Sigmund and Stephen when you brought me here?"

Illyana shook her head. "It was a surprise to me - I just assumed you would kill the boy and her mother. But I helped create this mess, so now I'm stuck with helping you. Where do we go from here?"

"To the strange beginning."

Illyana frowned as she finished her apple in two large bites.

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"Good question."


	50. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 17

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 17

Illyana returned to her human form before we exited the temple gates. Since the entire village was on edge, that seemed a wise decision.

Benjamin, Gant, Jessica, and the girls were waiting for me. Dare and Sigmund were with them. A cluster of temple guardsman and acolytes were carefully watching the members of my pack. Further in the background, a grim-looking squad of Lord Alban's samurai were keeping an eye on everyone else.

Benjamin took a deep breath when he saw Illyana. The others didn't react as strongly since they didn't know who she really was.

Dare gave Illyana and I a long and worried look as we approached. "How was your journey to the spirit world?" she asked.

"It was baffling and cryptic," I told her.

Dare smiled sardonically. "So in other words, it was the usual. I've only visited the spirits twice myself. The first time was after I finished my time as an acolyte. I spent a day wandering through a jumbled mass of ghosts who were howling as they mourned their pasts - I didn't sleep well for a year afterwards. The other time was just before I was raised to the senior priesthood. I had tea with a pretty Folk girl and a gentlemanly rabbit, as a smiling cat watched us from a nearby tree. We talked about complete nonsense, I remember something about queens and beheadings."

For some reason, Illyana let out a chuckle. Dare - probably wondering who Illyana was and where she had come from - gave her a brief glance. Illyana kept her face neutral.

Then Dare turned her attention back to me. "Perhaps I just don't have a talent for communicating with spirits."

I gave Dare a stern look. "I know what you're thinking of doing if Dormammu enters our world."

Dare didn't say anything for a long moment. When she finally spoke, she sounded resigned.

"Somebody in the spirit world has a big mouth," Dare observed.

"You have no idea," I responded dryly. "But that's not important. What's important is that summoning the Phoenix is not a winning strategy."

Everyone within earshot stirred uneasily.

Dare actually shrugged. "Actually, I wouldn't be able to do it. I'd need the help of more priestesses than actually reside in the Alban temple. And besides, I'm sure there's a secret Graymalkin agent or two hidden amongst the temple staff. They'd assassinate me as soon as they realized what I was up to... and that's assuming Priestess Carol didn't decapitate me first."

Then she gave me a meaningful look. "But still, if the situation were to become desperate enough..."

Beside me, Illyana hissed.

"I was alive during the Burning," I interrupted.

Illyana fell silent. Dare didn't reply, but she was obviously amazed.

"It was two hundred years after the war between the Wilder and the Folk," I continued. "There was no warning. The Star-Folk - my grandfather and grandmother called them the Shi'ar - attacked with weapons that are almost impossible to describe. Their initial strike was in the great lands across the western ocean, and to this day nobody knows why they attacked there first. I was in the land of Chin at the time, and I saw the worst of it. Settlements were smashed and forests burned to cinders in an instant. Mountains shook with terrible avalanches. Great mushroom-shaped clouds towered into the heavens. It seemed like the end of the world."

"Then the Phoenix arose, her light blinding the world as she ascended into the sky. After that, the great ships of the Star-Folk began to fall. They burned their way down to Earth, tumbling and breaking apart as they plummeted. The ground trembled and the seas heaved for miles around wherever they struck."

"The Phoenix won," Illyana added suddenly. "She defeated the Star-Folk utterly. And then her very presence began killing the survivors of the Shi'ar attack. Fire's raged from horizon to horizon. The air was so hot that it was almost impossible to breath. Rivers and seas became black with ash. But eventually - nobody knows why - the Phoenix left. You could see her bright red-and-orange light recede as she raced deep into the night sky. Nobody knows what devastation she caused in the depths of space before she finally returned to her slumber."

I continued. "The Star-Folk killed many, Dare. But the Phoenix almost finished us off. Do not attempt to summon her. Unless, of course, you're planning on performing a mercy killing on our entire world."

Dare was still silent, but she nodded in agreement.

* * *

Before I left town, there was somebody I had to see. We didn't really have the time, but if I didn't meet with Lord Alban, there might be a clash of arms that would result in a greater delay than any time lost to politeness.

As I entered the great-hall of his manor, Lord Alban was the very personification of a frontier lord taking time from his busy affairs to greet a visiting fellow noble. He was seated at the hall's main table, talking to several of his underlings. The conversation ended as I approached, and the lord's advisers politely bowed and withdrew. I wondered how much of that was staged and how much was real. Probably a bit of both.

There were more samurai stationed about the hall than the last time I was there. And, in what was definitely not a matter of complete coincidence, they all had the hard-bitten look of experienced warriors. There wasn't a single youngster among them.

Gant could actually fit into the great hall. He was slightly behind me and to my left. As we advanced, he carefully examined each of the samurai in turn. The samurai returned his gaze. You could actually see everyone calculating the most efficient way to kill each other.

Benjamin was next to me. Many of the samurai were paying so much attention to Gant, that they were ignoring him. However, the smarter samurai were also considering Benjamin.

Lord Alban's wife - a formidable Wilder woman who had never spoken a word in my presence - was giving me a long and steady look. Meanwhile, Lord Alban pushed a wine cup and a bottle before an empty chair. I sat down, waved away a servant, and poured my own drink.

"Lord Alban," I said in polite greeting. "Thank you for seeing me. I regret any trouble my presence may have caused."

The Lord waved away my apology.

"Lord Ashe," he greeted me in return. "To what do I owe the honor of your latest visit?"

For several seconds, I tried to decide how to answer that. Lord Alban had a well-known reputation as a pious man. An honest answer on my part might fill him with awe - or offend him terribly.

Lord Alban noted my uncertaintly. Then, thankfully, he decided not to pursue the question.

"Never mind," Lord Alban said with a sigh as he picked up his own wine cup and took a long swallow.

* * *

I'd made it clear to Lord Alban that I was leaving town as soon as possible. It wasn't exactly said that I should never return, but I thought it would be a good idea to wait until Lord Alban's successor was in power before doing so.

Carol refused to speak to me. I felt no ill will towards her for that. Hopefully, she would someday forgive me for the madness I had unwittingly brought to her door.

Dare met us at the manor gate. She had Sigmund in tow. Samantha and Sophie were obviously happy to see him.

"How is Ingrid taking this?" I asked as I nodded in Sigmund's direction.

Dare shrugged. "Poorly. But she knows that he isn't safe here, and she's too hurt to travel. And for reasons that I don't claim to understand, she seems to trust you."

Then Dare turned to Gant, "Mr. Gant, my thanks for defending me during the fight in the courtyard. I am in your debt."

Obviously uncomfortable with Dare's praise, Gant quickly bowed his head. "A privilege, my lady," he rumbled in flustered embarrassment.

Over Dare's shoulder, I caught a glimpse of the children. Samantha and Sophie were showing Sigmund one of their games. I'd seen the girls do it before. It involved sketching a symbol on the ground, and then skipping over and around it in some sort of one-footed pattern that I couldn't discern.

Illyana was also watching the children. Her eyebrows rose after Sophie finished her drawing. Then Illyana looked at me.

The sketch was of a circle that contained two pairs of lines. One pair of lines crossed over the other. The proportions of the lines within the circle were odd - both parallel, and yet curving away from each other.

I recognized it immediately.

Then I turned to Dare. "Do you know Michael? He has a holding south of here."

Dare nodded.

"Please have our horses taken to him," I said as I handed her a generous sum of coins. "Ask him to stable them for two weeks. If we haven't returned by then, the horses are his."

"What are you up to?" Dare asked as she tucked the coins in her belt.

"We're going to Nyack," I told her.

She looked doubtful. "If you're planning to take a boat, two weeks isn't really enough time to get back and forth from Nyack."

"We have other means of transportation."

* * *

We walked to the village square.

"Why Nyack?" Benjamin asked in bafflement.

"Did you see the symbol that Sophie drew in the street?" I asked.

Benjamin considered that. Then his eyes widened in surprise.

"Sophie!" Benjamin called over his shoulder. Startled, Sophie looked at him.

"Back at the manor, you scratched something into the ground. What was it?"

Sophie isn't easily given to words. She was struggling to form some when Samantha quickly spoke up for her.

"It's just a part of the jumping game," Samantha told us. "There are seven symbols. That one is called the mage's mark."

Benjamin nodded and then turned his attention back to me. "I've seen children play that game before. Could it be a coincidence?"

"That symbol is obviously a representation of the window in the roof of the Sanctum Sanctorum," I said.

Benjamin sighed. "The resemblance is clear."

We were referring to an ancient structure in the Grenich part of Nyack. It is the Sanctum Sanctorum of the Sorcerer Supreme and it's the center of Nyack's college of mystical arts.

"For a symbol representing the Sanctum Sanctorum to appear just now is obviously meaningful," I told Benjamin.

Benjamin glanced at Sigmund. The boy was now riding on Gant's shoulder and appeared to be vastly enjoying the experience.

"It's incredible," Benjamin muttered to himself. I'd told him about the spirit of Ancient Strange.

Then his attention turned back to me. "My lord, I won't question your interpretation of the signs. You're the seeker, not I."

I didn't correct him.

* * *

Illyana's teleportation circle rose around us as the landscape surrounding us changed. And then we were no longer in Alban. Around us, the vast city of Nyack stretched away in all directions. The overwhelming stench of that many people and animals concentrated in one place was a sudden shock. I'd had no time to adapt to it. Shaking my head, I snorted several times as I tried to adjust.

Even my nose-blind companions were discomfited by the smell.

We were on Bleaker Street, just across the street from the Sanctum Sanctorum. Most teleporters - especially long-range ones - are nowhere as near as accurate as Illyana.

"Good work," I told her.

Illyana nodded distractedly. It seemed to me that there was something sad in her eyes as she considered her surroundings. Perhaps Illayana was seeing Nyack as it was back when she was just a girl.

Everyone was peering about them. The children - Samantha, Sophie, and Sigmund - were clustered around Gant. The children were wide-eyed at the huge expanse of streets and buildings. On the other hand, Gant looked mildly disgusted. He shares my opinion about over-crowded urban centers.

Benjamin touched Jessica's shoulder and nodded towards the Towers. Jessica - who had probably never seen a building taller than the fortifications of Roch - gasped in amazement at the sight of the titanic ancient skyscrapers. As she and Benjamin watched, a tiny figure leaped from an open window of the Empire tower and snagged one of the wind-whipped cables that hung from its pinnacle. Then they adroitly kicked off from the wall of the tower and used the cable to swing across the face of the massive structure.

Benjamin had a slightly nostalgic look about him.

Jessica's face was lit with a delighted smile. "I have to try that," she said to nobody in particular.


	51. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 18

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 18

Illyana had teleported us to Nyack. We were standing just across the street from the Sanctum Sanctorum itself.

Nobody looked twice at us as we appeared out of Illyana's circles of light. After all, the unusual was the usual in that particular part of Nyack.

There was some light traffic out in the street - the usual pedestrians, people on horseback, and wagons. However, a man seated cross-legged on a floating red and green carpet was dodging his way past his slower fellow travelers.

At a nearby tavern, a scatter of patrons were sitting at some street-side tables. Two older men were playing the ancient version of the modern game of castle - what the Folk have always called 'chess'. The game-board was a large and translucent white-and-black grid that hovered in midair between their tables. The pieces were animated representations of warriors, nobles, and fortifications. As I watched, a pair of animate samurai-pawns extended their claws and began dueling viciously for mastery of a square. In my judgement, red would win the game in five moves.

The remaining customers were mostly students. Piles of books and scrolls characterized the tables at which they sat. The students were almost all Folk, but a painfully young Blood ronin was puzzling over a scroll as he tried to project a small rainbow of light onto the wall next to his table. He seemed to be having a problem getting the colors right. I silently wished him luck. The Blood just don't seem to have the same talent for magic as the Folk.

On a nearby street-corner, an elegantly dressed mistress-mage was carrying on a conversation with a wizened street-vendor. He was trying to sell her some herbs from his small wagon. The mage was leading a naked and spectacularly beautiful fire elemental by a chain-leash. The elemental had her arms crossed over her breasts, and was standing with most of her weight on one foot as she impatiently tapped her other foot. She was obviously bored and impatient.

Then a scruffy-looking Folk boy came sprinting around a corner and dashed down the street. Pursuing him was an angry-looking Folk girl.

"Dammit, Liam! I told you to keep away from my sister!" the girl yelled. Then she launched a fizzling bolt of mystical energy at the boy. It was almost certainly not strong enough to do serious injury, but when it struck the street just behind the boy, there was a loud bang and a burst of bright light. The boy yelped, skipped a step, and then dodged into a nearby alleyway. The girl continued after him, her hands glowing as she tried to summon another mystical bolt.

A few of the people on the street laughed, but most simply ignored the boy and his pursuer.

"Wow," Samantha said in breathless awe as she took in the scene around us. Beside her, Sophie looked similarly amazed.

On the other hand, Sigmund didn't seem particularly impressed. But then, he was a quiet boy - though not as quiet as Sophie.

Benjamin smiled down at the children. "Welcome to the magical quarter of Nyack. They say that Grenich has the largest population of mages in the world."

"Wow," Samantha repeated. She was turning her head back-and-forth as she tried to see everything.

Jessica was gazing at the alley down which the boy and girl had vanished. Another bang - this time accompanied by a squeal of pain - echoed out of it.

"My lord, should we intervene?" she asked.

"I have the impression that the young lady's actions are warranted," I answered.

"The girl's magic isn't really very powerful," Illyana reassured Jessica.

Jessica nodded uncertainly.

Actually, I was paying more attention to the Sanctum Sanctorum. It was located just across the street from where we'd appeared. I was particularly examining the circular window in the Sanctum's roof. My memory had been correct, the window did indeed match Sophie's drawing in every particular. The once-home of Stephen Strange is a peculiar structure. The style of its construction is ancient - dating back to a time even before the Folk-Wilder war. There are more than a few such remnants scattered throughout Nyack and the other cities and towns on the shore of the Lant ocean. However, the Sanctum Sanctorum is unusually well-preserved.

I could sense the magical energy that surrounded and permeated the building. It seemed to almost hum with power.

"Let's go," I said as I began crossing the street. The others followed.

Before I could knock, the front door of the Sanctum Sanctorum opened. The creature that opened the door was just as I'd last seen him - in a tattered pair of denim pants, with a roughly-forged iron collar around his neck, and nothing more. He had dark-red hair and a lantern jaw, and his leanly muscled body was carved with a network of new and old scars. His face was unremarkable, but his red-brown eyes seemed to stare out at the world from some deep abyss. There was a long length of heavy, roughly-forged, iron chain looped around his shoulders.

"Hello, Jimmy," the demon said with a smile that revealed a yellowed mouthful of jagged and broken teeth.

"Shit," Illyana and Benjamin muttered in unison.

Benjamin drew his weapons, and immediately handed one of his short-swords to Jessica. She accepted it without looking and shifted off to the side. Gant shifted his massive club into a two-handed stance. Meanwhile, Samantha and Sophie promptly hid behind behind him. That left Sigmund standing stock-still on the sidewalk as he stared at the demon. With a frustrated hiss, Samantha leaned out, grabbed Sigmund, and dragged him behind Gant.

I didn't react. The demon's presence wasn't a complete surprise to me. I'd caught his hot, flame-like, scent just before he opened the door.

"Hello, Blaze," I replied evenly. "We're here to see Cyrus."

The demon of vengeance - apparently now in servitude to House Strange - silently examined us one-by-one.

His gaze settled on Illyana. I couldn't quite understand the expression on his face. It seemed almost... gentle.

"Hello, Illyana," Blaze said to my aunt. "It's been a while."

His voice - normally deep and coarse - was oddly mild.

"About a century," Illyana responded after a brief pause. She had the air of someone trying their best to be civil in an uncertain circumstance.

"That was down in Norla, right?" Blaze said.

Illyana nodded. "Yes. It was that business in the bayou. Madam Simione's cult was summoning demons, but doing a bad job of binding them. Innocent people were dying. We stopped that."

"We worked pretty well together," Blaze added quietly.

"We did," Illyana replied calmly. There was something almost wistful in her voice.

Then there was a long and awkward pause as both Blaze and Illyana seemed to grope for words.

"I don't hold what you did against you," Blaze said suddenly - finally broke the silence.

Illyana took a deep breath. "I thought it was necessary," she replied. "but I... I did regret it."

Blaze just nodded silently.

"How long did it take you to return to Earth?" Illyana asked.

"Not long. About twenty years. Humanity calls to my kind. It always does."

There was yet another awkward pause. I ended it by clearing my throat.

Tearing his attention away from Illyana, Blaze gave me an impatient look. Then he stepped back and held the door open.

"Enter freely and of your own will," he announced in obvious amusement.

Illyana snorted.

Everyone entered except, of course, Gant. This time, he looked particularly frustrated at having to stay outside.

* * *

I've been in the Sanctum Sanctorum more than a few times. The foyer just inside the front door is fairly stable, but once you enter the depths of the building, the architecture can become very flexible. Rooms, hallways, and decorations often vary wildly from visit to visit. Stephen once mentioned to me that even he didn't always understand the rules by which his home adjusted itself.

Blaze left us in a waiting room that I vaguely remembered from one of my earliest visits. There were steaming hot cups of tea - one for each of us - waiting on a table. There was no sign of whoever had prepared the tea and left it for us.

"I'll let Cyrus know you're here," Blaze told us. Then he turned and walked away. The scars on his bare back were even worse than on his front. Someone had whipped him so badly that that the skin had reformed as a single mat of glossy scar tissue.

I tried not to notice how Illyana's eyes trailed up and down Blaze's form as he left the room.

"Your boyfriend is kinda scary," Samantha said to Illyana. Her voice was shaking. She and the other children were clustered in the far corner of the waiting room. Sophie had her arms protectively around Sigmund. He didn't seem to mind the familiarity. In fact, he was hanging onto Sophie's forearms with his hands.

Illyana just shrugged. "Don't be scared. His bite is worse than his bark."

Samantha frowned. "Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

Illyana just smiled.

Then Cyrus entered the room.

* * *

Cyrus looked terrible. When I'd last seen him, he was a vigorous man in his early-middle years. However, the years since then had obviously been hard for him. There was a great deal more gray in Cyrus' hair, his face was drawn and worn, and he was using a cane as he limped his way into the waiting room. He smelled of weakness and exhaustion.

The first thought that crossed my mind was that Cyrus didn't have much longer to live.

I also noticed that he didn't acknowledge the presence of either Sigmund or Illyana. That was disturbing in itself.

"James," he said to me. "What brings you here?"

I wordlessly gestured towards Sigmund. No particular expression came over Cyrus' face when he seemed to finally notice the boy. The acting Sorcerer Supreme just seemed too weary to really care.

"Ah," Cyrus responded soberly, "but this is too soon. Years too soon. Perhaps decades."

"We've run out of time," I told him.

Cyrus smiled bleakly. "I should have suspected that something like this would happen. I sensed an incursion from the Dark Dimension yesterday. And then it ended when someone cast a spell of forbiddance."

"That was me, Cyrus," Sigmund said. The voice speaking was not that of a boy.

Alarmed by the sudden change in Sigmund, Sophie let go of him and stepped back.

Cyrus limped towards Sigmund, and then painfully crouched down until he was on eye-level with the boy.

"It's still too soon, Stephen," Cyrus said quietly.

Sigmund looked at Sophie. Then he held out his hand. Sophie considered that for a split-second, and then took his hand in hers.

Then Sigmund looked back at the Cyrus and nodded. "James is right. Our choices are limited. However, Dormammu knows about me. It's time to fully awaken me."

Cyrus seemed to consider his options for a moment. Then he nodded in agreement.


	52. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 19

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 19

The internal architecture of the Sanctum Sanctorum often shifts between visits - and sometimes even during visits. Most of the time, the instantly recognizable roof-window is visible from the large hall located just inside the Sanctum's front entrance. When that's the case, the window overlooks and illuminates the landing at the top of the hall's grand staircase.

Other times, the window is present in the ceiling of the Sanctum's private study. In the past, whenever I've seen Ancient Strange deep in his researches, or casting his most complex rituals, the window always loomed overhead.

When we first entered the Sanctum Sanctorum, the window was visible at the top of the great staircase. However, when Blaze opened the door that led into the study, that same window dominated that room's oddly-angled far wall.

It's advisable not to stare too long into the window. Most of the time, it merely shows the sky and some part of the Nyack skyline. However, every now and then it reveals strange vistas from other places, times, and even dimensions. There are stories of people driven mad after they gazed too long through that window.

For just a moment, right after Blaze opened the door to the study, the sky outside the window was oddly dark - with peculiarly large and bright stars, and swathes of strange colors splashed randomly from star-to-star. A titanic whale-like creature, its body surrounded by whipping tentacles, was flying slowly through the dark depths. A flock of smaller creatures with bat-like wings seemed to accompany it.

Then I blinked, and in that moment the scene switched to a prosaic view of the sky above Nyack. I had the strangest feeling that the window itself didn't want me to see any more.

* * *

Cyrus and I entered the study first. Everyone else hesitated. They all obviously sensed the peculiar aura of the room.

Then Aunt Illyana walked inside and smiled as she looked around. "Home sweet home," I heard her say quietly to herself.

She caught the curious looks Cyrus and I gave her.

"Back when I studied with Stephen, I spent a lot of time in here," she told us.

Everyone else slowly followed Illyana into the study. However, Blaze remained at the door, holding it open as if he were expecting someone else.

Then we heard something crash. It came from back down the hallway.

"Sonofabitch!" I heard Gant curse - a phrase he'd learned from Anna, by the way. Then he appeared at the far end of the hallway. It should have been impossible, but the hall was expanding itself to accomodate his advancing form. I was oddly reminded of a snake passing prey through its body.

Blaze stepped away from the study door as it suddenly yawned to twice it's normal size, momentarily becoming a giant among its kind.

And then Gant walked into the study.

His eyes met mine. "That was oddly birth-like," he growled.

"What did you break?" Blaze asked ominously.

Gant gave Blaze a long look. "A big vase. Kinda pretty."

Blaze actually winced. "Was it white with a blue floral pattern?"

"Yup."

"It was from the Ming era of ancient China," Blaze said through gritted and yellowing teeth, "and it was thousands of years old."

Gant looked relieved. "Oh, good. I'm glad it wasn't something new."

Blaze looked like he was about to violently continue the conversation - which would have been a sight to see - when Cyrus intervened.

"Blaze... it can be fixed," he said quietly.

Blaze gave Gant one last, hard, look. Then he subsided.

* * *

I picked up Sigmund and held him in my arms. The boy was calm as he curiously looked around the study. There was a lot to see, since the room was packed to overflowing with books, instruments, and various artifacts of magical power. In many parts of the study, you would have to turn sideways to work your way through piles of books and other magical items.

"What do you plan to do, Cyrus?" I asked.

The mage reached out and ran a hand through Sigmund's hair. Sigmund smiled shyly back at him. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Samantha and Sophie shift uneasily. They didn't like that we had plans for Sigmund. I could understand that.

"We must awaken the Ancient One," Cyrus told me distantly.

I didn't really like Cyrus' detached and exhausted manner. To use an old expression, it seemed to me that Cyrus was at the end of his rope. A man in that condition can make dangerously unbalanced decisions.

But I could see no other solution. Dormammu had been roused. He had already made one attempt on Sigmund's life, and would surely try again. Eventually, he would succeed. We had to wake Ancient Strange.

Then Benjamin spoke up. "If I understand what you two are saying, the boy has two spirits within him. His own and that of the previous Sorcerer Supreme?"

Cyrus nodded as he sat down cross-legged, directly in the circle of light admitted by the roof window. Then he slowly rose up in midair until he was hovering about five feet above the floor.

"You are correct," Cyrus answered. "For the moment, Ancient Strange sleeps. He only becomes aware occasionally, but we will bring him to a greater state of awareness."

"What will happen to the boy?" Jessica asked immediately.

"It won't hurt him, will it?" Samantha added quickly. She was obviously concerned.

Sophie was listening to the conversation with intense concentration.

Cyrus actually smiled. "A fusion of the two spirits will occur. The boy will not be destroyed. Instead, his spirit will be... supplemented."

I spoke up. "If I understand the situation correctly, the boy's spirit will remain his own. However, it will have access to Ancient Strange's power and wisdom. It was never intended that Stephen be a master, instead he will be an advisor."

Jessica nodded, but she was clearly still worried.

On the other claw, Benjamin and the girls seemed satisfied. It occurred to me that perhaps they trusted Cyrus and I too much.

"Why didn't you already do this?" Benjamin asked suddenly. That was certainly a very reasonable question.

"The meshing of an ancient spirit and a young one is tricky," Cyrus said. "It would be less difficult - less risky to both entities - if it happened naturally over a period of time as the boy grew into a man and adapted to the other spirit. That was what we wanted. However, we're now forced to accelerate the process."

"My lord!" Benjamin suddenly interrupted. He was slowly turning around in a full circle, as if looking for something. At the same time, Jessica was staring at the ceiling as she shifted uneasily on her feet. My two Spider-Folk were sensing something dangerous.

A split-second later, Blaze and Illyana also began peering around, but in their case, it was as they had heard something off in the distance.

"There's something..." Illayana began. Then she trailed off as her eyes became hard and calculating.

All of that was bad. My senses are generally superior to my companions, but many of my companions could sense threats and mystic energies and beings in a way that I could not. When they became alarmed, I became worried.

Blaze suddenly changed into his demonic form - a skeleton sheathed in flames. His burning skull was particularly grotesque. A clap of heat seemed to fill the study as the temperature rose. He took several long steps that put him adjacent to Cyrus. The demon of vengeance was peering around, trying to find the source of what was disturbing him.

Her massive sword appeared in Illyana's hands. However, she moved next to Sigmund and I - the boy was still in my arms.

Taking their cue from Blaze and Illyana, the others began to act. Jessica ran to the nearest wall, grabbed a ridiculously huge broad-axe from it, and then leaped straight up and affixed herself to the ceiling. Samantha and Sophie put themselves adjacent to Benjamin, Illyana, and I. Gant positioned himself at the study's door.

Benjamin had my back.

As always.

"What's wrong?" I asked as the claws of my right hand extended with a metallic snikt. Sigmund was cradled in my left arm.

My metal claws glittered mirror-like in the light from the ceiling window. For a moment, I thought I saw in them the tripartite reflection of a white-furred and bi-pedal shape. However, there was nothing in the room that could have been the source of such an image.

"Intruders," Cyrus said steadily as emerald and gold eldritch energies began to flow around him. His face was grim and seemed ready for anything. All traces of the lassitude and exhaustion that had earlier claimed him was now to be gone.

"Dormammu is trying again," Illyana told me distractedly. "But he can't bring his mindless ones here - not into the Sanctum. So instead he's sending something that was born in this world."

Then the acrid, animal, stench of Dormammu's latest summoned monsters hit me. It was like a slap to the face, and you didn't even need to be Blood to catch that scent. Almost everyone in the room flinched and wrinkled their noses.

"Dammit," I whispered. I knew that scent. It had been centuries since I'd encountered one of those creatures. I'd let myself hope they were finally vanished from our world.

Gant snorted in disgust and growled at the door he was guarding. Overhead, Jessica carefully skittered around the edge of the ceiling window, hefting her huge axe, as she tried to ascertain what was outside. The only two mortal entrances to the study were covered. The rest of us were in a defensive posture in the middle of the study. And we were aware of the threat.

We would just have to see if that was enough.

I hugged Sigmund closer to me. His arms were wrapped tight around my neck and he was beginning to whimper in terror. The focus of the coming battle would revolve around him. I had to keep Sigmund as close to Cyrus as possible.

Cyrus began chanting, his voice strong and steady as he called upon other-wordly forces. The mystical energies surrounding him began to eddy and swirl.

From somewhere in the Sanctum Sanctorum, we finally heard the hunting call of the accursed beasts who were pursuing us.

"WEN-DI-GO!" one of them - almost certainly the king of his kind - called. Like wolves, those creatures often call out to each other. That was how they mark each other's location as they closed on their prey.

"WEN-DI-GO!" came a chorus of returned calls.

The ancient enemy were here, and there were a lot of them.


	53. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 20

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 20

The Sanctum Sanctorum is sheathed in layers of defensive spells that were cast, century after century, by one of the most powerful magic-users to have ever lived. If anything, the Sanctum's study - where we were located - is even more heavily protected. Hostile magics were difficult, if not impossible, to cast within the Sanctum. Even Dormammu couldn't bring his mindless demons, or any other creature from an alien dimension, into the Sanctum.

So instead he'd found a weapon that already existed on Earth.

The Wendigo are creatures of the vast northern woods and would normally never be found as far south as Nyack. They were once men, but the act of eating human flesh had left them blighted and accursed; a twisted parody of man and animal. Dormammu was grasping for whatever weapon he could find, and he had discovered a formidable one. Some of the earliest tales of the Traditions say the Old One once simultaneously fought a King Wendigo and the first and greatest of the Green Bastards.

It was a battle without a victor. Only the Old One knew how the blazes Dormammu could possibly be controlling a Wendigo pack.

"WEN-DI-GO!" the King Wendigo called again. The hunting cry of its kind had long ago become a name that the people of the north only spoke in whispers.

"WEN-DI-GO!" came the return calls. The beasts were scattered throughout the Sanctum.

In the study, we had all fallen silent. For many of us, the idea that we were being hunted was a strange and alien concept. We were more used to being predators, rather than prey.

The beasts sounded closer this time, but by then I had their number.

"Six of them," I quietly told the others, breaking the silence. "Three on the roof and three in the building - they're all heading for us."

"I see one!" Jessica said tensely, "It's using the peak of the roof for cover!"

She was still on the ceiling, bent over in a gravity-defying, upside-down, crouch. The huge broad-axe she'd taken from the study wall was in her hands and she was shifting it uneasily. The weapon looked far too big for her, but Jessica hefted it easily. The Spider Folk are much stronger than they appear.

Still hovering above the floor, in the center of the study, Cyrus was softly chanting. With one hand, he reached out and touched the top of Sigmund's head. I was holding Sigmund and I could feel the wave of mystic energy that suddenly began flowing through his small body. Sigmund's face was buried in my shoulder. He was trying to be brave, but far, far, too much was happening.

I whispered something soothing to him.

Benjamin and Blaze were adjacent to Cyrus and I. They both obviously intended to defend their respective lords. Benjamin had his twin short-swords drawn and ready. Blaze had unwrapped the long chain that he usually carried around his shoulders and was slowly swinging one end in a vertical circle. The temperature in the study rose as the chain began glowing hot-iron red.

Samantha and Sophie were clustered near me. They had their knives out, but they looked terrified.

"Go hide," I told them as I gestured towards a cluster of furniture in a corner of the room. The two of them immediately scampered behind an oaken desk.

Illyana had summoned her giant sword and was silently mouthing some words. I guessed that she was trying to cast some sort of spell, but judging from the look on her face, she wasn't having much luck. The defenses of the Sanctum Sanctorum were frustrating her.

Gant, still next to the door, suddenly leaned forward and sniffed. A savage grin lit up his face. "Two behind the door!" he called to me.

I felt a savage grin of my own creep over my face. "Greet them," I ordered.

This was going to be an ugly fight. We might not win. But I felt we should greet what was coming with a certain style.

Gant howled as he swung his giant club. It impacted into the midst of the door and smashed it to splinters. The two Wendigo who had been sniffing at the door were taken by surprise. Most people vainly try to hide behind closed doors when the Wendigo are on the hunt. Aggressively shattering a door wide open in order to bring the fight to the Wendigo was a new experience for the beasts.

I silently welcomed the Wendigo to Gant's acquaintance.

A Wendigo behind the door took the brunt of the blow and was smashed back down the hallway. The other hesitated in what seemed to be complete astonishment. Then Blaze's chain lashed out at him. The end of the chain whip-lashed into its face and knocked the Wendigo flat. A wild spray of half-burned blood splattered across the hallway walls and ceiling.

Gant's club whirled as he began pounding the downed Wendigo. It howled in agony as its bones shattered.

Meanwhile, down the hall, the Wendigo who'd been thrown backward scrambled into an all-fours crouch. Another Wendigo joined him from around the corner. For the first time, we could see them clearly. They were bipedal, covered with a thick coat of white fur, and so large that they had to crouch on all-fours to move through the halls of the Sanctum. Their wide mouths hung wide-open and were edged with huge, yellowed, fangs. Their thick fingers were tipped with massive claws.

Roaring, the beasts bounded towards Gant. Gant smashed another blow into the deformed skull of the Wendigo he'd been beating and roared a challenge of his own at the approaching creatures.

Then two additional Wendigo crashed through the ceiling window.

Amid a rain of broken glass, Jessica lashed out with her broad-axe and caught one of the descending Wendigo across the mid-section. It was a blow of awesome power. One of the creature's arms came loose and the axe buried itself so deep into the Wendigo's upper-torso that the creature was almost bisected. As corrupt-smelling Wendigo blood sprayed across the study, the Wendigo was pitched across the room by the force of Jessica's blow. However, Jessica wasn't able to extract her axe - it remained jammed in the Wendigo's body and was torn from her grasp as the Wendigo sailed across the room.

The other Wendigo was coming for Sigmund and I. His blades flashing, Benjamin leaped upwards and intercepted the beast in mid-air. The two of them crashed to the floor of the study in a wild tangle of limbs. Benjamin's swords were moving so fast that they became a metallic gray-red blur. Blood - both Benjamin's and the beast's - began streaking the floor around their struggling forms.

Keeping Sigmund between Cyrus and myself, I slashed at one of the Wendigo's wildly gyrating arms. I didn't dare crouch down since I had to keep Sigmund in contact with Cyrus, so my claws didn't connect as cleanly as I would have liked. However, I did manage to split the creature's bicep in half. The drag I felt on the tips of my claws indicated the I'd also scored a set of triple furrows into the bone of its arm.

Incredibly, the Wendigo that Jessica had almost cut in two had managed to pull loose the axe embedded in its body. Then it fumblingly tried to use its one remaining arm to stuff its spilled organs back inside its body. As it did so, the massive gaping hole splitting its body began closing.

The injured Wendigos were regenerating. The quickest living regenerator that I knew of was my daughter Rahne - and these creatures were healing even faster than even she could.

"Cut off their heads!" Illyana roared as she raced across the room and did just that to the one that I was watching heal. Her great sword descended and bit through the fallen Wendigo and deep into the floor. The Wendigo's head rolled loose - the jaws still slavering and working. Illyana then ferociously kicked the head across the room. The head rebounded off a wall and skittered underneath a nearby leather-bound chair.

Gant was ferociously battling the two Wendigo at the door. He was barely managing to stand them off, and the Wendigo laying in the study's doorway was staggering to its feet. Gant was seconds away from losing his life. Blaze howled something in a language only spoken in hell and crashed into that battle. Illyana also raced toward the door. By then she was in her demonic form and her hooves clattered against the floor as she ran.

Jessica came down from the ceiling, landing gracefully next to the axe she'd lost. Then she reclaimed it.

Benjamin was picked up by the Wendigo he was fighting, and then dashed so hard to the floor that the floorboards underneath him broke. The Wendigo fighting him tried to get its legs under himself and rise... and then a knife precisely thrown by Samantha impacted into one of its eyes. The creature howled and clawed at the hilt protruding from its eye-socket.

Cyrus pulled Sigmund from my grasp.

"Go! Help them!" Cyrus yelled, gesturing broadly towards the others. His eyes were pure white and the energies around he and Sigmund were spinning faster and faster. Sigmund was now just an awkwardly-shaped bundle of red-gold energy in Cyrus' arms.

There was the barest flicker of motion, sound, and scent above us. Blaze glanced in our direction and immediately back-whipped his chain, arcing it over my head. The chain wrapped itself around a massive white form, and then yanked the descending monster off course. The King Wendigo had been on a mid-air trajectory straight towards Cyrus and Sigmund.

The King Wendigo landed on me just as I thrust upward with my claws. I caught him just underneath his ribs, deep in his midsection. The King's fingertip claws dug deep into my back as his teeth lunged for my throat. I blocked his bite with my shoulder as I ripped outwards with my claws. The King's blood and some of his internal organs spilled over me in a wash of wet heat. His jaws released their grip on my shoulder as he screamed in what seemed more like outrage than pain.

The King and I were howling at each other in millennia-old hate and rage as we spun across the room in a furious, brawling, tangle. Our ancestors were with us and they were demanding death.

Jessica came up behind the King and pulled back her axe...

And then the Sanctum Sanctorum suddenly shuddered - as if the building itself had been dealt a massive blow. Everyone in the room staggered as furniture scattered, and books and artifacts fell from walls and shelves. Jessica was knocked off-balance and almost fell.

The King Wendigo and I didn't even pause as we continued to tear at each other.

Benjamin used that disturbance to somehow wiggle his way clear from the Wendigo with whom he was entangled. His chain-shirt was shredded, blood was running from his arms and torso, and yet his face was fixed with deadly, expressionless, concentration. Despite all he had suffered, he executed a precisely timed cross-sword sweep at his Wendigo. Only the incredible speed of the Wendigo prevented the creature from being decapitated. However, the beast did lose its lower jaw. The Wendigo's tongue lolled down from his maimed lower face as the white fur on its chest suddenly turned red, but it didn't even hesitate as it simply slammed once again into Benjamin.

"Dammit!" Cyrus gasped aloud. Then he dropped Sigmund - who was still wrapped in a cocoon of mystical energy - at his feet. Cyrus stretched out his arms, his hands twisting into strange patterns as he began speaking a spell that I recognized. I'd last heard it in the courtyard of the Alban temple. It was a spell of forbiddance, intended to prevent creatures from other planes from entering our realm of existence.

I knew what that meant. Dormammu was attacking the Sanctum. That was source of the structure-rocking blow that we'd all just felt. The Dread Lord was hoping that his Wendigo servants had wrecked enough havoc inside the Sanctum that he could break through to our world.

I executed a trick maneuver that had been specifically created to fight much taller opponents. It involved dropping to your knees and slashing open the thighs of your enemy. It was a difficult attack to avoid, and could result in crippling injuries to your foe, but it left you in a vulnerable position.

My attack partially worked and the King roared as blood began flowing down his legs like twin waterfalls. But he managed a slash that hit me on the side of the head and ripped open my scalp. As I scrambled to one side, I shook my head wildly in an effort to avoid getting blood in my eyes.

Meanwhile, the brawl at the doorway continued. Blaze, Gant, and Illyana looked like they were gaining the upper hand, but Gant was barely on his feet, and was taking more damage than he was dealing. If he fell too quickly, the tide of that fight could easily shift back in the favor of the three Wendigo.

Seeing the Jessica was still behind the King Wendigo, I made the risky decision to allow him a direct and undodged attack at me. If he came at me directly, Jessica would have a clean strike at him.

Just as the King's claws dug into me once again, Jessica regained her footing and finally swung her axe. I barely ducked in time as the King's head came loose and flew across the room. The blade of the axe sailed just a finger's breadth over my head. Jessica obviously didn't understand the power of her weapon - she'd almost taken off the top of my skull.

Still caught in the claws of the now-dead King, I began brutally cutting my way loose from the beast's death-clutch. Jessica helped by lopping off one the King's arms at the elbow. I winced as the blade of her axe whispered so close to me.

I knew what weapon Jessica was wielding. How the hell had Stephen - or Cyrus - acquired it?

The building shook once again. It was worse than before.

Gasping out the last words of his spell, Cyrus collapsed to the floor. For a split-second, before I saw the dagger jutting out of his back, I thought he'd fallen from exhaustion.

However, that wasn't the case. Out of nowhere, Loki had appeared behind Cyrus. His eyes bright with joy, Loki bent down and picked up Sigmund's limp form. He cradled the boy in his arm.

The thrown dagger that impacted into Loki's neck was probably intended for one of his eyes. Samantha had ducked out from behind a knocked-over chair and thrown the knife. She was actually very good at that sort of thing.

Loki hissed out something that was as much blood as breath as picked up Sigmund and then half-pivoted to use his body to protect Sigmund from another thrown dagger.

Jessica lunged for the god of mischief. Loki's eyes went wide. I think it was only then that he realized what weapon Jessica was carrying.

I shoved the dead King's spasming and blood-spurting corpse away from me and took a stumbling, slippery, step towards Loki. My body was trying to regenerate an incredible amount of damage, and keeping my footing amidst the King's spilled viscera was not easy.

But someone else got to Loki first.

"Let him go!" Sophie shouted as she came up from behind Loki and drove her left-hand dagger into one his kidneys.

Loki looked utterly shocked. Then he ducked underneath a wild swing that Jessica had launched at him. He was still holding Sigmund and Jessica had been forced to swing high in order to avoid killing the boy. That gave Loki all of the margin he needed to avoid her attack.

Little Sophie - her yellow-orange eyes alight with Creed fury and blood-lust - leaped onto Loki's back and tried to drive her knife through Loki's back and into his heart. Unfortunately, her blow glanced off his ribs. However, in a deadly and vicious move, she kicked the hilt of the dagger that was jutting out of Loki's lower back. The hilt suddenly shifted into a very acute angle. The internal damage that inflicted must have been severe.

"LET HIM GO!" Sophie's shouted again. Her words had turned into a war-cry that she was screaming over and over.

Loki tried to howl, but the dagger in his throat prevented that - he could only make a choking noise. Jessica tried for him again but, even with Sophie still on his back, he managed to dodge out of the way. Then he converted his dodge into an almost dance-like spin that ended when he slammed Sophie against a support pillar. Sophie simply didn't have the strength to hold on and was knocked away.

Samantha ran towards her sister. She had thrown her only two daggers - one into Loki's neck and the other into the eye of a Wendigo - and was reduced to waving her arms and screaming wildly as she tried to distract a god.

However, Loki wasn't interested in finishing Sophie. Instead, still carrying Sigmund, he staggered into the pool of light that was dappling the floor of the study. It was coming from the shattered ceiling window. Broken glass crunched underneath the god's boots.

From where he lay on top of a shredded Wendigo, Benjamin pitched one of his swords at Loki. It passed through Loki's right thigh as he blended into the beam of light and became insubstantial. Then the last vestige of Loki and Sigmund seemed to blur up and out of the broken window.

There was a sudden, shocked, silence. The fight was over. The battle had taken less than a minute.

The Wendigo were all dead or incapacitated. Illyana was going from body to body, making sure that the monsters who were merely injured would never rise again.

Samantha helped Sophie to her feet.

Gant collapsed to his knees, his club clattering to the floor and rolling away. Then he fell flat on his face. He looked like the floor of butcher shop. Nobody had fought longer or harder against the Wendigo than he.

Benjamin was trying to get to his feet, but couldn't seem to do it.

Jessica - axe still in her hands - crouched beside Benjamin, encouraging him to stay still. Then she glanced in my direction, looking for orders. For the moment, I had none to give.

Blaze was cradling Cyrus in his arms. As incredible as it sounds, the demon seemed overwrought.

I stared up at the shattered ceiling window and cursed softly. Then I began limping towards Gant.

Sophie ran to where Loki and Sigmund had vanished and looked upward, into the light of the outdoors.

"Let him go," she whispered once again. There were tears running down her face.


	54. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 21

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 21

My body was steadily knitting itself back together. That hurt, but I'm relatively used to that kind of pain. It comes with being one of the Blood.

My two best and bravest samurai were badly injured. Off hand, I couldn't tell if Benjamin and Gant would survive. They'd both taken tremendous injuries during our battle against the Wendigo. Their kinds - Troll and Spider-Folk - heal quicker than most, but they don't regenerate with anything like the speed of a Blood.

Cyrus was down. Blaze was on his knees, holding Cyrus in his arms, and seemingly paralyzed by the situation. I couldn't tell if Cyrus was alive or dead, thanks to the powerful scent of fire and brimstone that emanated from Blaze.

At the moment, I thought it would be most unwise to approach Cyrus.

I was crouched next to Gant, doing my best to staunch his bleeding. Jessica was doing the same for Benjamin.

We needed help.

"Samantha!" I yelled. Samantha was busy trying to comfort her sister, but my tone seized her attention. I tossed her my coin pouch. Samantha caught it with one hand, without taking her eyes from me.

"Five buildings south of here," I told her, "I saw a sign for a healer. Bring them here. Offer them anything. Threaten them if you must."

Samantha gave me a jerky nod. She put her foot on a Wendigo's head, leaned over, and yanked loose the dagger she'd embedded in its eye. Then she dashed from the room with all the speed and grace of a deer. On the way, she vaulted over the flood of Troll and Wendigo blood that was pooled at the study's door.

Illyana joined me in attending to Gant. She was in her demonic form, and her dark-red eyes met mine. She shook her head in response to my unasked question.

"Healing magic is not in my nature," she said as she applied pressure to a deep wound in Gant's abdomen. "Besides, if you aren't the Sorcerer Supreme, casting magic is almost impossible in the Sanctum. Frankly, I'm surprised that even Loki could do magic in here. The wardings are that powerful"

That was as I'd suspected, but it was still disappointing.

"You know teleportational magic better than anyone I know," I said. "Thanks to Sophie, Loki has serious internal injuries. As badly hurt as he is, and carrying Sigmund, how far could Loki have gone?"

Illyana was silent for a moment as she considered my question.

"Even Loki has limits," Illyana replied slowly. "He apparently couldn't open a Bifrostian bridge within the Sanctum, which is how his kind usually apports, so instead he used raw magical power to meld with an external life energy - sunlight in this case. That's a Light Elf trick and not natural to Loki, so the odds are good that he's not an expert with that particular spell. Factor in his injuries and Loki probably didn't get very far. However, once he got outside, he could have summoned a bridge. Whether he could do that or not depends on how badly he's hurt."

Illyana glanced at Sophie. The girl had come back to her senses and was helping Jessica with Benjamin.

Sophie and her sister had done a lot of damage to Loki. He'd either missed their presence, or drastically underestimated them. In either case, Loki had paid a steep price for that mistake.

"When she gets going, Sophie's a deadly little thing," Illyana told me quietly.

"She's Creed," I replied shortly.

Illyana gave me a sideways look.

Over Illyana's shoulder, I saw Blaze carefully lay Cyrus down. For a long moment, he knelt next to Cyrus, the empty eye-sockets of his burning skull expressionlessly focused on the downed arch-mage.

Then the demon of vengeance gathered up the chain that was pooled on the floor next to him and inexorably got to his feet. It occurred to me that whatever spell Cyrus had cast to make Blaze more man than demon was no longer functioning.

Blaze had re-found his true purpose.

Before I could warn her away, Jessica dashed from Benjamin to Cyrus. She'd already shredded much of her skirt bandaging Benjamin. Squatting next to Cyrus, she began carefully examining the knife wound in his back. The wound location was high and centrally located - which was not good.

For just a moment, Blaze watched Jessica as she began treating the Sorcerer Supreme. I gathered my legs underneath me. If I had to intervene, I needed to be ready.

Then Blaze reached with a skeletal hand down towards Jessica. She sensed that immediately and quickly looked up at the demon. But she and Blaze were so close...

"Johnny! No!" Illyana called out quickly.

Blaze paused with his hand still outstretched. For a second or two, some struggle seemed to consume him.

Then, without a word, Blaze turned and stalked towards the study door. The hot iron chain he used as a weapon dragged on the floor behind him, scorching the rugs. The links of the chain whispered and rustled against each other; a sound reminiscent of the buzz of an angry rattlesnake. As Blaze walked through the pool of blood at the door, the blood hissed and steamed.

Illyana closed her eyes after Blaze vanished.

"Be careful," Illyana whispered after him.

* * *

Within a minute or two, Samantha literally pushed a clearly terrified healer into the study. The healer was an elderly man, but he was wearing the dark purple cloak of House Drumm, so he was also a magician. He took a quick, shocked, look at the situation and then went to work.

"We have to get them out of here," the healer told us urgently. "I can't cast spells within the Sanctum."

"If we get them out the back entrance, will that be enough?" I asked.

"Yes," the healer and Illyana said simultaneously. Then they gave each other a surprised look.

* * *

Getting Benjamin and Cyrus out the backdoor was easy, but it took both Jessica and I to move Gant.

After we finally got Gant settled, he became semi-aware.

"Wa... t... fur... me..." Gant managed to somehow gasp out. His eyes were unfocused and one of his hands was groping for his weapon. Those were the first words he'd spoken since the end of the fight. I took it as a good sign that he could still speak.

Illyana smiled, and then leaned over and kissed Gant. Her lips left a perfect imprint in the blood smeared on his forehead.

"We'll be back, samurai," she promised Gant.

"Rest," I told him.

Jessica hurriedly joined Illyana and I as we re-entered the Sanctum. She immediately retrieved the axe. She'd left it embedded in a support pillar so she could help us move Gant.

Then we headed for the front door. Samantha and Sophie made to follow us.

"Stay," I told them. "Help the healer. Guard Benjamin and Gant."

The two girls didn't look happy with their orders, but nevertheless they obeyed.

* * *

Illyana, Jessica, and I exited from the front door of the Sanctum Sanctorum. A curious crowd waited outside, obviously attracted by the noise of the battle within. When they saw us, most of them immediately began backing away. Illyana and I were covered with blood and had gashes and tears in our clothes and armor. Illyana was still in demonic form and carrying her great sword. Although she was also blood-stained, Jessica was at least somewhat more presentable than Illyana or I. However, she was also carrying an ominously over-sized axe that radiated sheer menace.

The stench of the beasts that we'd killed hung over us. The three of us presented a bleak and deadly appearance, and we were obviously ready for war.

Illyana gave Jessica's weapon a dubious look. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

"What?" Jessica exclaimed as she looked at the weapon she was carrying.

"It's called Jarnbjorn," I said distractedly. I was sniffing the air, trying to catch Loki's scent.

Jessica gave her weapon a suspicious look. "This thing has a name?" she asked.

Illyana nodded. "Yes. It's the axe Thor wielded when he was young and not yet worthy of Mjolnir."

Jessica's eyes went wide.

"According to legend, it has some questionable magical enhancements," I warned. "Don't cut yourself with it."

I was still trying to sniff out Loki's scent, but I wasn't having any luck.

"Anything?" I asked Illyana. She had her own senses. They were different than mine.

"No," she responded shortly. Then she made a circular gesture with her left hand.

One of Illyana's circular white portals opened up in the middle of the street. Most of the remaining bystanders began fleeing the scene. A few onlookers - the proud, unwise, or just stupid - remained, but even they kept to the far side of the street.

Which was good, because a trio of Illyana's hunter-demons proceeded to exit the portal and slouch uneasily in the sunlight of our world.

* * *

Jessica gasped and lunged for the demons, her axe held high. I barely managed to grab her by the collar of her dress and yank her back. Jessica could be deadly aggressive when her blood was up.

Among the remnant of the watching crowd, two Blood - a pair of ronin sailors - extended their claws and put themselves between their fellow watchers and the demons. A Folk woman held her hands up, the fingers curled in an odd pattern. She was obviously readying a spell. A grizzled Wilder Redeye stepped off to the side, establishing a clear path of fire at the demons.

I held up a hand to stave off the bystanders. They restlessly obeyed.

The demons were vaguely doglike and humanoid at the same time. One of them was standing on its hind-legs, but the other two seemed more comfortable on all fours. They appeared to be composed of shadow. Their actual features - if they had any - were difficult to discern.

The three of them fell to their bellies and crawled to Illyana. Then the shadowy animal triangle of their muzzles extruded surprisingly long and pink tongues as they began to lick the cobblestones at Illyana's feet.

"Mistressss... command ussss," hissed the largest of the trio - the one who had been standing when they arrived.

"Loki of Asgard is nearby," Illyana ordered coldly. "Find him. Tell me where he is."

The three demons froze. The two smaller ones glanced at each other. The larger demon seemed to be searching for words.

Illyana kicked the largest hunter-demon in what passed for its snout. The demon's head recoiled backwards from the force of the blow. Shadowy blood dripped to the ground.

"Yesss, mistresss!" the demon responded miserably.

Then the three of them leaped into action, splitting up and vanishing into the shadows of the nearby buildings. If you watched carefully, you could see them appear in shadows further up and down the street as they somehow flitted unseen from darkness to darkness.

Jessica gulped.

Illyana gave me an irritated look. "I almost had to repeat myself. There will be excruciations all around when I return home."

Suddenly, there was a vast rumble. Everything shook - even the ground itself. Tiles and shingles were displaced from roofs and clattered to the street. Flower boxes and other building ornamentation also fell. Cracks appeared in building facades. The last of the onlookers scattered in all directions.

Dormammu was trying yet again to force his way into our plane of existence.

"Dammit!" Illyana fumed. Then she lifted her giant sword overhead, holding it by hilt and blade, and yelled out the same spell of forbiddence that I'd heard at least twice before.

The shuddering of the earth ceased.

"Dormammu is becoming a serious pain in the ass," Illyana warned me irritably.

"I didn't know you could do that," I said to her.

Illyana shrugged. "I certainly couldn't do it in the Sanctum Sanctorum. And I also couldn't summon my demons. The Sanctum is powerfully attuned to the Sorcerer Supreme, and others practice magic either with his permission or at their own peril."

* * *

Illyana retreated into the nearest shadow and waited. She seemed distracted - staring off into space. I assumed she was receiving reports from her hunters.

Jessica gave me an anxious look. I looked at her and shook my head, indicating that we should be patient.

"Found him," Illyana said eventually. Then she conjured one of her teleportational circles.

Jessica and I stood next to Illyana. It was then that I noticed that very little of Jessica's skirt was left - she'd used most of it for bandages. As a result, she was showing a spectacularly long and bare length of leg. She was also barefoot, apparently having kicked off her sandals back in the study, so she could better cling to the ceiling. Her short blonde hair was disarrayed. Her arms and hands were soaked with blood from the elbow down. A cut in her dress partially revealed the gentle under-curve of one of her breasts.

The sixth sense that tells a women when a man is looking at her went active, and Jessica glanced at me. There was a smear of blood on her cheek, a cut on her chin, and she was developing a nasty black-eye.

Her blue eyes met mine.

A surge of attraction moved through me like something alive. Which was both ridiculous and shameful given the fact two of my samurai were fighting for their lives, a child was in danger, we were hunting a god, and the fate of the Sorcerer Supreme hung in the balance...

"I renounce all claim to you," I told Jessica, almost without thinking. "Whatever debt you owed to the cell mistress, that she passed on to me, is settled. You are no longer obligated to serve and obey me. You may come and go as you will."

Jessica was obviously surprised. "My lord, have I somehow displeased you?"

"No, Jessica. Your service has been exemplary. I hope you will stay with me."

Jessica nodded uncertainly.

Just before we teleported away, Illyana looked over her shoulder at me and smiled.

What I was beginning to feel for Jessica was simply too much. I could no longer allow our relationship to be one in which she was bound to my commands.

* * *

We ended up on the south side of Nyack. The scent of the river and the river-side docks is distinctive.

A filthy Nyack alleyway is an unsuitable place to find a Prince of Asgard.

Well... maybe not this particular prince.

Loki was sitting on the cobbled alley floor, with his back against a masonry wall. Sigmund was lying at his feet - however, I could tell that the boy was sleeping peacefully, rather than dead. One of Illyana's hunter-demons was also on the alley floor next to Loki, but it was definitely dead. Apparently the demon had made the mistake of approaching too close to its quarry, and Loki had broken its neck. However, in its death-throes, the demon had done additional injury to Loki. There were claw marks on his face, chest, and down the length of his left arm.

The part of Loki's face not covered with blood was wan and pale. He'd lost a considerable amount of blood - a great deal of it pooling beneath him. His life-blood was channeling into the gaps between the alleys cobblestones, forming a red, grid-like, pattern around where he lay.

The other two demons were snuffling and pacing back-and-forth at the mouth of the alley. Illyana sent them home as I carefully examined our surroundings with all of my senses. We were dealing with Loki, so nothing could be assumed to be as it appeared.

Jessica shifted her axe, carefully balancing its considerable weight in her two hands as she watched Loki intently.

"Wait here," I told Jessica and Illyana.

Neither looked particularly pleased with my words.

Then I stepped into the alley. A few paces later, I crouched down, with my forearms resting on my knees. The body of the demon was between Loki and I. I was very carefully just out of his reach. However, if I extended my claws, he was not out of mine.

Loki met my gaze. There was no fear in his eerie green eyes. Pain, but no fear.

Then he let out a wet-sounding cough. A trickle of fresh blood streamed down his chin. Loki was bleeding internally. And he was apparently too hurt to summon a means of escape.

The knives that Samantha and Sophie had embedded into Loki were gone. The wound from either one would have killed a Folk - and most Scatter or Wilder. Even a Blood would have been discomfited.

But Loki persevered. The knife wound in his throat was partially closed and no longer bleeding. In time, he might even recover.

"So, Prince Loki, have your plans met your expectations?" I asked.

Loki actually smiled at me. "James, son of James, and grandson of James, what would you say if I told you that my plans have been ninety percent successful?"

I shrugged. "I'd say you would be much better off if the remaining ten percent had worked out in your favor."

He nodded painfully. "Thanks to Odin's edict preventing congress with the mortal world, I am far more vulnerable on Midgard than was once the case. Those two little girls were a surprise. I knew they were present, but I discounted them."

Then he seemed to consider something. "They would make good guardians and companions for my Sigmund. Will you allow that?"

I felt myself smile. "I don't think I could prevent it. They are already friends. I think it is possible that Sigmund and Sophie are destined for each other."

"Which one is Sophie?"

"The hellcat who clawed her way up your back."

Loki sighed. "A vicious little creature."

"Can you actually die here, Loki?" I asked in honest curiosity. "Aren't you supposed to have a role in Ragnarok?"

Loki's expression turned malicious. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Would it not be a great revenge on my adopted family if their great and grim prophecy turned out to be nothing more than a tale? My death here would prove that, wouldn't it?"

I just shrugged as another coughing fit seized Loki. Afterwards, he spat a mouthful of blood out onto the alley floor.

"You haven't asked about the successful part of my plan," Loki observed.

"No," I replied. "No, I haven't."

Loki seemed almost offended. "And why not?"

"I know what you were doing. And why."

Loki cocked his head. "Really? You're not exactly the most intelligent foe I've ever gamed with..."

Loki liked to hear himself talk and it could definitely become wearisome.

"You wanted to control the melding of Stephen and Sigmund's spirits," I interrupted brusquely. "It couldn't be allowed to happen on the schedule that House Strange desired. It had to happen earlier. It needed to be interrupted at just the right time. You wanted the melding of Stephen and Sigmund to favor Sigmund as much as possible. You wanted the next Sorcerer Supreme to be more a child of your blood than anything else."

Loki just smiled at me. I had the impression he was pleasantly surprised. I was reminded of a father training a very young son, who had just been momentarily wrong-footed by a wildly unconventional claw-attack.

"House Strange will know," I told Loki. "The other houses of the College will also grasp the truth."

Loki's grin revealed blood-stained teeth. "Then they have a choice, don't they, James? They can have the most effective Sorcerer Supreme possible - or a purer, but far less capable, Sorcerer Supreme. Which do you think the Houses will pick? Remember, that position was already killing the best sorcerer of this generation."

In the game of castle - what is called "chess" by the Folk - there is a situation that the Folk call a "fork", but the Blood call "two claws". A player is left with a choice between two unfavorable moves, but he has no choice but to select one of them. Loki had been doing that to me for some time now. It was almost a relief to see that someone else would soon be in the same situation.

My eyes wandered to Sigmund. The boy was still sleeping peacefully.

There was, of course, another option I could take...

Loki sensed what I was thinking.

"Are you willing to have Jessica know that you murdered the boy?" he asked quickly. "Do you want those two lovely girls - Sophie and whats-her-name - to know that as well? Can you sacrifice their affection for you? And what of your family back home? Can you surrender so much of your soul after having just re-discovered it?"

My gaze returned to Loki. "I've done worse, Loki," I told him bleakly.

That wasn't what Loki wanted to hear, so he kept talking. "James, how do you know that the last of my blood will be a monster, or my servant, or both? Is it not possible that he will be his own man? Perhaps I just don't want Sigmund to the creature of those half-mad poseurs and simpletons who make up House Strange?"

I shook my head. "Loki, if that's what this is about then you are a damned idiot. You've near killed yourself because you assumed that the mages of the College wanted a slave instead of a leader."

Loki seemed to consider that. Then his face hardened. "The mages of House Strange love power and position - just like everyone else. You're being naive, James. And that's an incredible thing for a man of your age."

"And you're being blindly cynical, Loki. And that's an incredible thing for a god of your age."

That actually make Loki laugh. It ended in another fit of coughing.

"I'm taking Sigmund," I informed Loki once he was done.

Loki nodded. "Of course you are."

Keeping a careful eye on Loki, I gathered the boy in my arms and got to my feet.

"Would you hold him close to me? I like to kiss him goodbye," Loki asked. His eyes radiated the sincerity and loss of a someone facing their end.

I laughed as I backed away. "Hell, no," I told Loki.

The god of lies, mischief, and treachery nodded in pleased approval.

Back at the mouth of the alley, Illyana and Jessica were waiting for me. They looked relieved.

"Loki?" I called just before we walked away. I wasn't sure why I felt the need to speak, but...

Loki looked at me.

"I think you missed something," I informed him.

An amused expression crossed Loki's face.

"Something has occurred to me," I told him, "You thought you were merely scheming against a handful of mortals, but perhaps you were wrong. Perhaps you were actually also plotting against the spirits of the Old One and Ancient Strange - the greatest hunter and the greatest mage of this world. And they both get testy when outsiders interfere too much with our mortal realm."

Loki's eyes narrowed.

Beside me, an intrigued look appeared on Illyana's face. Jessica's expression didn't change. She wasn't a very metaphysical soul, and was really just waiting for the order to kill Loki.

"You brought me into this," I continued, "but who brought a Spider assassin to my side? Who put Thor's axe - the edge we needed to win against the Wendigo - into her hands? Who brought Samantha and Sophie - now the friends and big-sisters of Sigmund, as well as the ones who laid you low - onto the game board? Who brought Illyana back from her lonely realm and involved her in all of this? Who made sure that Sigmund will now be surrounded by people who care about him as he grows up?"

"Follow the chain, Loki. An unlikely trio of Black Widows encounter the one man who can pry them from the grip of their crazed mistress. An amulet found on a battlefield brings the Demon Mistress back to the world of her birth. Then a sign sends us here. Doesn't that all seem fit together rather neatly?"

You could almost see Loki's mind work as he began back-tracking through recent events. He was looking for any patterns that might reveal interference in his designs.

Judging by the expression on his face, he was finding them.

"I will consider what you have said," Loki said slowly.

"Now, if you will excuse me, Prince of Asgard," I said. "I have two badly injured samurai to see to - I hope they will live. And I also need to determine if you have murdered Cyrus or merely crippled him."

Still distracted, Loki nodded his head. "You have my permission to withdraw," he said distantly. His mind was elsewhere.

Then we walked away, leaving Loki behind us. Jessica was looking at me in complete puzzlement.

"There's no need," I told her.

"Yes, my Lord," she replied. She didn't really understand, but I suppose from her point of view orders were orders.

"Did you really believe what you said?" Illyana asked. "That business about Ancient Strange and the Old One acting against Loki?"

By now she was back in human form.

"Yes," I told Illyana.

Illyana seemed to consider that. "If so, why did I have to be a part of this?" she asked.

I was about to make a suggestion when we were interrupted.

"Oh..." Jessica said suddenly. It was a warning.

Down the street, we could see Blaze approaching. He didn't react to us as we passed. Blaze really wasn't Blaze any longer. Or perhaps he had actually returned to what he really was.

Illyana looked away.

We turned the corner just as Blaze entered Loki's alleyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a Spider-Folk attached to the upper portion of a high wall, just across the street. He'd probably jumped up there when he saw Blaze approaching. As I looked at him, his gaze seemed to focus on us. Than he started in surprise.

Jessica was carefully watching behind us and didn't notice him.

Suddenly, Sigmund stirred in my arms.

"Illyana..." he said quietly. His eyes were open.

Illyana wiped her eyes and looked down at Sigmund.

"Illyana," Sigmund repeated. Now there was a gentle smile on his face. His expression was a peculiar combination of something you might see on both a boy and an older man.

"I need your help," Sigmund continued. Then he reached out his hand. Illyana automatically took it in hers.

"Stephen?" Illyana asked.

Sigmund shook his head. "No. Not really. But he would like a favor."

"What does he want?" Illyana asked.

"A few hundred years of your life," Sigmund said. "As an apprentice, I'll need a master. And someone must take Cyrus' place. Dormammu and everything else like him must be kept at bay. And my great-great-grandfather's plans for me can't be allowed to succeed. He's something of a jackass."

"Hail, Lady Sorceress," Sigmund added. Than he peacefully closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

A stunned expression was on Illyana's face.

"Hail, Lady Sorceress," Jessica said with a polite curtsey towards Illyana. Honestly, you haven't lived until you've seen a lovely young lady in a shredded dress curtsey while carrying a brutal weapon that was almost as big as herself.

"Remember when I said that you would have made a marvelous Sorcerer Supreme?" I told Illyana. Really, it was hard not be smug.

"Absolutely not," Illyana replied sharply. "That is not going to happen!"

"We'll see," I suggested calmly, "but doesn't 'Sorceress Supreme' have a ring to it?"

"Bozhe moi," Illyana whispered.

Once again, I glanced down at Sigmund.

"How sharper..." I said half to myself.

"What?" Jessica asked.

"Something an ancient poet once said: 'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child.'"

In my judgement, Loki's plan had been less successful than he'd thought.


	55. The Serpent's Tooth, Part 22

THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 22

When I finally got home, I was immediately swarmed by a small horde of my sons and daughters. After a while, Anna rescued me from their eager greetings and hauled me off to her room.

Several exhausting, but pleasant, hours later we took a break. Anna - barely covered by a light robe that she didn't bother to belt - opened the door of my chamber and yelled out an order for food and wine.

Then she threw away her robe and flopped back onto the bed. Anna is a skilled acrobat and can make something even that simple look graceful.

"Benjamin and Gant look like hell," she observed as she cuddled up next to me. The side of her head was resting on my chest. Her tail was coiled around one of my arms. Her feet were grasping my wrists. One hand was tangled in my hair, and the other was possessively toying with another part of my anatomy.

Don't bother trying to puzzle that out. Like all elves, Anna is very flexible. She naturally tends to tie herself into a knot, particularly during intimate moments.

I ran my hand down the length of her body, from shoulder to thigh. As always, I found the contrast of her blue skin against mine to be fascinating. Not to mention beautiful.

"There was a bad fight," I told her. "Benjamin and Gant almost didn't survive. We barely got a healer to them in time."

Anna frowned, but didn't dwell on my words. Anna tends to live in the moment. Benjamin and Gant were alive, that was enough for her. She'd sort out the details eventually.

"What are we going to do with that pair of half-breed girls?" she asked.

"Send them to school. They have a useful array of skills, but they need some polishing in terms of a more traditional education. After that, we'll find something for them to do. That might involve having them stay with a friend. I'll decide later."

"And just who is that pretty blonde Spider who can't seem to keep her eyes off of you?" Anna continued. This time there was a definite arch quality to her voice.

"Her name is Jessica. You and she will eventually need to talk. She's been hinting that she might wish to seek concubinage."

Anna made a noise half-way between a "hmm" and a growl.

"What's been happening while I was gone?" I said as neutrally as possible.

Anna smiled again. "Well, for one thing, I think Emma is hiding from you..."

*I am not!* Emma telepathed indignantly. Apparently Anna didn't "hear" that, but I saw no reason to make that into an issue.

"...and Olivia is on the Creed frontier. She and Lord Crowe are overseeing the pack of settlers and samurai who will establish the first of the vassal villages. They're going to move out the day after tomorrow. Oh, a Fire priestess, two Storm Hammers, and a band of Blade acolytes are going with them. Olivia talked to the mistress of the Nyagra temple, and its been agreed that the project has the blessings and support of the goddesses."

That was very good news. "Go on," I said.

Then Anna launched into a full report: the status of all the children - she spent just as much time talking about the children who weren't her's as she did about our's, political maneuvering by the nearby lords, military actions throughout the region, a summary of messages sent by various people, major events in the village, an update on recent marriages, births and deaths, and some particularly juicy gossip about who was currently sleeping with who among our vassals - along with Anna's personal opinion as to whether those relationships were good, bad, or simply funny.

"I'll have to join Olivia and Lord Crowe," I told Anna when she was done. Anna nodded in agreement. Since I was back in the area, it would be politically unwise to not became a part of that force. My presence should be known.

*I'm coming with you,* Emma mind-whispered to me.

*Very well,* I replied.

* * *

The next morning, I let Anna sleep in as I washed and got dressed in something suitable. Then I kissed Anna goodbye. She was asleep, but woke up and smiled as my lips brushed her ear and cheek.

Really, I hadn't got much rest. I envied Anna in that she would be able to take the morning off.

Outside my door, two of my children were eagerly waiting for me.

"We have to show you something!" May announced. She's my youngest by Anna. Her eyes were bright with glee, and her tail was excitedly lashing behind her.

As usual, Oliver said nothing. He and Sophie had a lot in common. He's the only child of Olivia and myself, and he's my youngest son.

The two of them dragged me to the nearest window. May leaped up onto the eave of the window and swung the shutters open. Then she leaned down and helped Oliver up. I put a steadying hand on their shoulders.

Through the window, we had a good view of the village below and the surrounding terrain. If it ever came to it, the window would make an excellent post for an archer or an energy-projecting Wilder. It was a beautiful morning, but nothing exceptional was happened. There was some traffic in the streets of the village. Farmers were working their fields. Off in the distance, some clouds were gathering into what I hoped would only be a light summer storm.

"Show him!" May told Oliver eagerly.

Oliver nodded and stared out at the horizon.

At first, nothing seemed to happen.

Then the distant rain clouds began coming together with greater and greater speed. And the brewing storm seemed to shift so that it was moving in our direction. The wind carried the scent of rain.

Oliver held up his hands - and then closed them into fists.

A pair of particularly bright lightning bolts lanced down from the storm. A few heartbeats later, the crack and rumble of their thunder reached us.

That was very impressive. There were priestesses of Lady Ororo who couldn't command a storm with that degree of precision and power.

I touched my youngest son's head and smoothed down his hair. Oliver grinned at me proudly.

"That's very good," I told him, "but let's have some rain instead. The farmers need it. Oh, and make sure it's a light rain. They've just finished planting and you don't want to wash away their crops."

Oliver nodded and turned his gaze back to the window.

The most dangerous part of the storm began breaking apart. Then a line of rain formed up and began sweeping across the valley.

Oliver carries the blood of the Old One, the Hidden Lady, Thor, and the Lady of Storms. I often wonder what destiny has planned for him.

* * *

Emma was waiting by the open gate with a pair of horses. A half-dozen samurai were already mounted and waiting outside the gate. They were keeping to a discreet distance.

I missed having Benjamin and Gant with me, but they both needed a chance to recover. Over their loud objections, I told them to stay at the holding.

Jessica was with the samurai. She was wearing a light armor jacket and carrying a pair of short swords in a back rig. I think Benjamin loaned it to her.

Jarnbjorn was back to hanging in the study of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Jessica didn't seem to miss it. The last time I saw that weapon, just before Illyana teleported us all home, I had the definite impression that it was brooding angrily.

I'd told Benjamin and Gant that Jessica would act as my yojimbo until they recovered. They agreed without hesitation.

A light drizzle was falling. I took a moment to look up and enjoy the cool sensation of my son's rainfall.

"How angry are you?" Emma asked. Despite her question, she didn't look particularly abashed.

"Not at all," I replied.

That seemed to surprise her.

"I know why you and Olivia didn't tell me about Sigmund and his mother," I said. "It makes sense. And at the time there was really no good decision to be made. You and Olivia did what you felt you had to do."

Emma nodded slowly. "Dare sent me a message the day before yesterday. She said Dormammu attacked the Alban temple. And after that, you left Alban with Sigmund - and Illyana the Mad of all people. She also said you had picked up a small band of Widow assassins from somewhere. You were supposed to be on your way to Nyack."

Emma and Dare were friends and colleagues, it wasn't surprising that Dare had sent a report about me.

"That happened," I confirmed as I helped Emma onto her horse. She didn't need that - arguably she was the best horseman of us all since she could telepathically influence her animal - but I enjoyed the opportunity to put my hands on her. I let one hand wander over her backside as I boosted her up.

My samurai - including Jessica - flicked their eyes away. They were trying to hide smiles, but some were doing a better job than others.

"There's a story going around that Illyana is now the acting Sorceress Supreme," Emma added carefully. "Everyone is going berserk about that, but they say House Strange is supporting her."

"So I hear."

Emma gave me a moment to elaborate. When I said nothing, she gave me a quite disgruntled look.

"You know, I could just read your mind," she said tartly.

"What would be the fun in that?" I asked. "As is, you and Olivia will just have to spend the next few days - or weeks - teasing bits and pieces of information out of me with your feminine charms. And I expect you both to be most charming. After all, you owe me."

"What do you have in mind?" Emma asked. There was a slight smile on her face.

"Just before I left for Nyagra, I had a talk with Aunt Jubes. She made some suggestions."

Emma's smile suddenly turned into a wince. Then she sighed, leaned down from her horse, and kissed me.

"It's moments like this when I remember why I married you," she told me. "I find the playfully ruthless part of your personality to be deeply exciting."

"Really? I married you because you are an exhilarating, intelligent, and beautiful woman. I've never forgotten that for even a second."

Then I mounted my horse. Outside the gate, Jessica and my other samurai opened a path for us. After we passed through the gate, they would fall in on either side of us, forming an escort.

Emma gave Jessica a searching look. Jessica kept her face expressionless.

"She's an attractive youngster," Emma said thoughtfully.

"So are you."

"I'm at least a decade and a half older than her," Emma pointed out as she reined her horse around towards the gate.

"Don't be jealous, Emma - it's unseemingly. And remember who you're talking to. A decade and a half is just a blink of an eye."

Just before Emma and I rode out, I saw Oliver, Samantha, and Sophie standing in a sheltered corner of the courtyard. They had the shy smiles of children making new friends.

Samantha was watching in amazement as Oliver and Sophie eagerly spoke to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the conclusion of this story-arc. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be taking some time off to work on other projects, but I doubt that I'm done with "Wolverine's World". If nothing else, I really should deal with at least a few of the many plot elements that I've left dangling.


	56. The Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is just a one-shot story. It's not the beginning of a new story arc.

THE VISITORS

The village was called Ashe and the name was more appropriate than most realized. The old man knew that over the long centuries the village had burned more than once. Although, admittedly, that wasn't exactly an unusual tale for this world.

In his time, the old man had seen many a place like Ashe. The village itself was situated on a hilltop, overlooking a small river. Scores of homes – small and large - were scattered about, and more were being built. Dogs, cats, chickens, and children were everywhere. Below the village were farm-fields and a water-mill. Fenced pastures held a prosperous variety of healthy livestock. The roads within the village itself were neatly graveled. A few groves of young apple trees were years away from bearing fruit, but their presence hinted at optimism for the future. There were more fortifications - including a stone stronghold - than might be expected, but there was a dangerous frontier not too far away, and the local lord apparently wasn't willing to gamble with the lives of his people.

The old man knew something about rulership. He approved of that last part.

* * *

Since it was a market-day, the village square was full of vendors and their wares. Locals had come from miles around and Ashe was packed with visitors.

One such visitor was an elderly man - apparently Folk. He was clad in decrepit leather armor, carrying a common spear, and the woolen cloak around his shoulders bore the colorful circular emblem of a tale-teller. He was broadly built and his maimed face suggested that the old man was no stranger to either hardship or bloodshed. For a man of his apparent age, he still had an aura of purpose and burly strength about him.

May - a young Blood-Elvish girl - bowed politely to the old man. After all, she'd been properly reared.

"Mr. Konungr! You're back!" she said in obvious delight. Her barbed tail lashed behind her in excitement. Her eagerness made the old man smile.

The old man sat on the edge of a market-cart. The owner seemed like he was about to say something, but then took a long look at the old man and decided that wouldn't be wise.

That was a wise decision.

May unhesitantly walked over to the old man and stood before him with her hands diffidently tucked behind her back.

"It's good to see you again!" May continued. There was a wide grin on her pale-blue face.

"Hello, young May," The old man replied gravely.

Then he glanced past May. "And hello to you, too, Oliver."

Oliver also bowed. "Mr. Konungr. Good t' see you."

The old man raised a bushy eyebrow. "You're speaking now? When did that happen?"

"Could alwa talk," Oliver solemnly informed the old man.

"Why didn't you?"

Oliver shrugged broadly - and with a seriousness that was far beyond his years. "Nothin' t' say."

The old man considered that. Then nodded.

"I see your point," he replied gravely. "Perhaps there are too many words in this world."

"But a'like y'r stories," Oliver said quickly.

That made the old man smile. Then he gestured to the other children.

"Who are your friends?"

Oliver glanced towards May, obviously deferring to her.

"These are Samantha, Sophie, and Sigmund," May said. "Samantha and Sophie have been taken in by my father. Sigmund is going to be the Sorcerer Supreme someday. He lives in Nyack, but he's visiting."

The old man took a moment to consider the children standing before him. Perhaps his gaze paused momentarily on the boy who May had casually announced would someday be the Sorcerer Supreme.

May was a mix of the Elf and Blood peoples. She had light-blue skin, coal-black hair, and the general form of her Elvish mother. A certain long ranginess to her limbs suggested her father's blood. And the old man could tell that she was someday going to be heart-breakingly lovely.

Samantha and Sophie were obviously sisters. They had dark-skin and hair, but it was their yellowish eyes that marked them as part-Creed. Their presence in the village was remarkable, since their kind tended not to survive for very long. Among the Creed, their lives were brutal and short. Meanwhile, the rest of the world despised them for the taint in their blood. None of that was fair, but it had nothing to do with justice.

Yet those two girls were walking about the village square, surrounded by Blood, Wilder, and Folk, as if they had not a care in the world. That was remarkable.

Oliver was a mix of Wilder, Blood, and Asgardian lineages. He was May's half-brother by Lord Ashe's third wife. As always, the old man noted the breadth of the boy's shoulders. Oliver was strong for his age, and he was only going to get stronger.

Sigmund was mostly Folk, but could claim a particularly important Asgardian as a many-times great-grandfather. He had his ancestor's green eyes and slender frame. The old man could only wonder what else the boy had inherited.

"Greetings," the old man told the children formally.

"Sir..." the children all growled as one.

"Will you be telling stories, Mr. Konungr?" May asked.

The old man looked amused by May's question. "Little May... telling tales is what I do. If I don't spin a story, then I don't eat."

* * *

They'd all moved to the edge of the market-place. The old man was sitting cross-legged, with his back to the wall of the local tavern. His spear was resting against the wall and the small wooden bowl of a tale-teller was on a broad cobblestone before him. Some copper coins were already in it. Once the old man deemed it full, he would tell a story.

The youngsters were facing him, seated in a rough semi-circle and waiting eagerly for the tale to begin.

An exhausted-looking Folk woman with a basket full of produce sat with them. She had two small children with her. She put a small silver coin into the bowl - a generous offering. The old man bowed his head to her. Her children solemnly contributed a copper each.

The old man smiled. "That's enough," he said. Then he looked expectantly at his audience.

"Harken to the tale of the Ironman," he began. His gravelly voice now pitched to carry farther than usual.

Everyone leaned forward. Some additional passersby also sat down. More coins clattered into the old man's bowl.

* * *

"In the late days of the Folk ascendancy" the old man began. "There was a great smith. He made fine and deadly weapons - the best of his time - although he himself did not take to the battlefield."

"His name was Stark. He was Anthony, son of Howard. And this is the tale of how he became the Ironman."

There was a whisper of excitement from the old man's audience, particularly from the children.

The old man continued.

"Stark's time was a decadent one that spurned both warriors and those who armed them. Oddly, it was also a time of great fighters and skilled weaponsmiths. In a far land beyond the sea, Stark brought his weapons to the samurai of his people. However, he became caught up in an ambush. His caravan was attacked and Stark saw many brave samurai cut down by enemy reavers. Stark himself was badly injured and dragged off to the lair of the raider chieftain."

"The chieftain demanded that Stark build for him a great weapon. A weapon that would ensure the chieftain's dominance over any rivals and perpetuate his cruel rule over the local Folk. Stark was badly injured and had only a short time left to live, but he was provided with an assistant named Yinsen. Yinsen was himself a man of great learning and cunning metal-work. Together, Stark and his companion devised a plan. They would create a weapon. And then they would give that weapon to their captor."

"Oh, yes, they would give it to him."

A rough chuckle came from the listeners. The old man smiled. His audiences always appreciated that particular flourish.

"Deception was of paramount importance. The raider chieftain couldn't know what Stark and his comrade were planning. So they set to work, but were careful to obscure every step of what they did. The goal was to have the weapon ready before the chieftain understood that it was completed - or what it could do."

"For although they did not know it, Stark and Yinsen weren't merely building just another soulless device of destruction as was common for that time. Instead, they were building something that would become a fearsome legend. Desperation had lent them genius. Fate had called upon them."

The old man paused as his audience held its breath.

"They were smithing the first Ironman."

The listeners let out a sigh. Heads nodded knowingly as grim smiles broke out. Of course, this part of the story was no surprise - it was well known. However, to name a thing was to invoke its power.

The old man continued. "The chieftain had his raiders keep an eye on Stark and Yinsen, but they were thoroughly deceived by the two smiths. As the days passed - and as Stark grew weaker and weaker from his injuries - the Ironman took shape."

"It was of roughly man-like shape, but seven foot tall. The steel of its armor was rough and unpolished, giving it a dull-gray color. The helm was a rounded cylinder with slits for the eyes and mouth. The arms and legs seemed inflexible at first glance, but the rough joints allowed for movement. Its strength was enormous, but unlike later Ironmen, it could not fly."

"Perhaps most important, there were cunning devices built into the Ironman that would keep Stark alive despite his injuries. If he could don the Ironman and fight his way free, Stark might live."

"Stark and Yinsen labored long and hard. And at last, the day came. The Ironman was almost ready, but one last step remained before it would come to life."

Then the old man paused. There was not a sound from his listeners.

"One more thing was required. The Ironman needed to be infused with lightning. That would give it the strength needed to confront the raiders and fight its way free. However, that process was long and arduous. It would take time, and time was becoming short. Stark didn't have long to live, and the raider chieftain was becoming suspicious."

"Stark and Yinsen set to work. Stark donned his armor... his weapon... and became one with the Ironman. Then the two smiths called upon the lightning. Thor gave his blessing to their work and the Ironman began to tremble as life flowed into it."

"But the raiders who were tasked with watching Stark and Yinsen had become fearful. They ran back to their master and reported that the two prisoner-smiths were raising a powerful and deadly creation. The chieftain angrily roared out his orders. The raiders were to go back, kill Stark and Yinsen, and seize control of their weapon."

"Meanwhile, Stark and Yinsen worked the desperation of men who needed just a little more time. A red needle encircled in glass was a talisman that symbolized the power needed to animate the Ironman. The needle rose slowly as the lightning surged and sang its way into the limbs of the Ironman."

"However, they were too late. The Ironman was not yet complete, but the raiders were approaching."

"That was when brave Yinsen left the smithy. His friend Stark only needed a little more time. Yinsen, weaponless and alone, ran to confront their enemies."

The old man paused and bowed his head.

"The end was inevitable. Yinsen asked for no quarter and fought as long as he could. He died under the soulless weapons of his time, wielded by the kind of men who are better at killing the defenseless than fighting those who are able to strike back."

"I regret that I cannot call upon and name the ancestors of Yinsen the Smith. They should know that men still tell the tale of his bravery, but unfortunately the names of Yinsen's fore-fathers are lost to time."

There was a respectful pause as the crowd considered Yinsen's tragedy. Then the old man resumed his tale.

"Stepping over Yinsen's lifeless corpse, their boots splashing through his honorably-given blood, the raiders continued into the smithy."

"But Stark was waiting for them. He had finally become the Ironman. He towered over his foes as he called out in anguish for his friend. But, of course, there could be no reply."

"The carnage that followed was suitable. The Ironman was drenched with the blood of his foes when he left the smithy. Behind him, the raiders were torn to pieces, their limbs rended from their bodies, and their guts roped over and around the tools of the smithy."

"Stark and the Ironman were now one. The world would know of them soon. And Stark was on his way to immortality."

"With grim and purposeful stride, the Ironman left the smithy and sought out the raider chieftain..."

* * *

Gant was a troll and that made him the biggest thing on two legs for miles around. He was always careful when he walked through crowds of smaller people. He didn't want to hurt anyone.

Gant had been brought to Earth - he still thought of it as 'Midgard' - as a war-slave of the Dark Elves. After the bloody defeat of the Dark Elves and the death of Malekith himself, Gant and his fellow slaves were startled to find themselves offered a new life. The culture of the Blood respected strength and courage and those were things that the enslaved Giants, Trolls, Ogres, and other beasts of the Dark Elf legions were more than able to offer.

"Hey, Gant," a Blood samurai called out amiably. The Samurai was named Sean and he had been in Lord Ashe's service for several years.

"Sean..." Gant rumbled back. "What goes?"

Sean shrugged and glanced around at the crowd in the village square. "We caught Willy cheating the farmers at dice again. We've got him leashed to a tree until the lord can pass judgement. Also, a couple of ronin dueled this morning. One of them is dead. The other staggered away, trying to hold his insides inside. We've been keeping an eye out, but neither of them seems to have any friends who want to continue the fight."

"Good," Gant nodded. "Have you seen Lord Ashe's kits? Lady Emma told me to track them down."

Sean jerked his head towards the far side of the market crowd.

"Over by the tavern," Sean said. "That old tale-teller is back in town and is working the crowd. The youngsters were listening to him."

"A tale-teller?" Gant asked with a frown.

"Yeah. His name is 'Konungr', or something like that. He's not a local. You've never heard him?"

Gant shook his head.

"He's pretty good," Sean continued amiably. "He might be worth a copper or two if you have the time. He's got this tale where Thor is turned into a frog. It's pretty funny."

Gant nodded and strode off towards the tavern.

* * *

The afternoon's tale was done and old man had converted some of his earnings into a small pot of stew. The tavern-keeper's daughter delivered the pot from the tavern's kitchen. She then joined May, Samantha, and Sophie near the tavern door and the girls began chatting.

Oliver and Sigmund were nowhere to be seen. The boys had a tendency to ramble about, so that really wasn't surprising.

Gant froze when he saw the old man. Then he gaped in surprise. He was too startled to properly prostrate himself.

Sensing that he was being watched, the old man looked up from his simple meal. Then his gaze met Gant's.

The old man searched through his cavernous memory until he found the Troll's name.

"Gant," the old man said thoughtfully. "Sit with me."

For a long second, Gant just stared. The idea of sitting with the old man was all but unthinkable. It just wasn't done.

The old man kept his gaze locked on Gant. Then he gestured to the ground before him in a manner that was unmistakable and brooked not even the possibility of disobedience.

Gant took a deep breath and sat down crossed-legged, his tetsubo in his lap, facing the old man.

Suddenly, the sound of the crowd around Gant and the old man became muted. It was as if everyone else was now a hundred yards away, when they were actually far closer. Nobody, not even the keen-hearing Blood present in the village square, could hear what Gant and the old man were saying.

That didn't particularly surprise Gant.

The old man stirred his food with a wooden spoon. Then he put the pot down.

"I last saw you on Alfheim," he told Gant. "There was a parley. An effort was being made to stop a war that neither side really wanted. I was present to mediate. You were in the retinue of a Dark Elf lord named Misry. During a break in the talks, your lord had you fight a Troll from the retinue of another Dark Elf lord. They said it was for our amusement, but it was actually intended to impress us with the savagery and cruelty of the Dark Elves."

Gant nodded slowly.

"You won the fight," the old man continued. "Your opponent died."

Gant said nothing. His eyes were still locked on the old man's face. He really wasn't sure what to say or do.

"What was the name of the dead Troll?" the old man asked.

Gant blinked in surprise. That was an unexpected question.

"His name was Brek," Gant replied.

"You were comrades?" the old man asked. "I thought I saw that in the two of you when you fought. There was a certain hesitation. An unwillingness to do battle. It was subtle, but it was there."

Gant let out a long sigh. "We had the same mother, but different fathers. My lord Misry bred my mother with many strong Troll warriors. He wanted to produce very powerful slaves. Brek was younger than me. My lord Misry sold him to another lord when he was ten winters old. I never saw him again until the day we were ordered to fight."

"Brek died bravely," the old man said quietly.

"He still died," Gant responded. His eyes had become distant and empty.

The old man nodded. Then he spoke again. "How is your new lord?"

"Good," Gant replied without hesitation. "He treats us well. He tells me that I am not a slave."

Then Gant paused.

"You have doubts?" the old man prompted.

Gant shrugged. "I was bred a slave, born a slave, and raised a slave. I was a slave all my life until the Blood cut the iron collar from around my neck and told me I was free. Do words really change anything?"

"Can you leave whenever you want?" the old man asked.

"Lord Ashe says so."

"Do you think he lies?"

Gant firmly shook his head. "No. But perhaps it does not matter what he says. Perhaps I do not know how to be free."

"Then learn," the old man said flatly.

Gant considered that. Then he took a deep breath and spoke again.

"I must tell Lord Ashe that you're here."

The old man smiled coldly at the Troll.

"Forget," he told Gant.

For a long moment, Gant seemed to stare off at nothing. Then he got to his feet. Looking around in puzzlement, he paused to glance at the old man. Then he nodded in a distant manner and trudged away.

From around the tavern's corner, Priestess Olivia - the third wife of the local lord - appeared. She was a tall woman with fine brown skin. Her white mohawk was a common affectation of the Storm Hammer sect of Lady Ororo, and it made her seem even taller. She was walking between Oliver and Sigmund, holding hands with them both as they described their latest adventures. Olivia's eyes brightened when she saw Gant. Gant bowed his head politely, and then shooed May, Samantha, and Sophie towards Olivia and the boys. They joined into a single group as the girls all chorused a farewell to the tavern-keeper's daughter. Then the newly-formed party began heading back towards the manor. It was time for lessons.

The old man watched the scene with a barely hidden smile. Then he finished his meal as he speculatively examined a short stack of coins on the ground before him.

There was enough for ale. This village was generous to tale-tellers.

The old man got to his feet.

* * *

At a table in the tavern, he waited patiently. It was just a matter of time until she appeared.

The old man could sense the heat of her. His presence called, so she would appear. That made the old man smile grimly. Whatever else she might be, she was a woman, so there must be words.

He was on my second ale - actually, the local brew was pretty good - when a Wilder woman dressed in caravan leathers entered the tavern. She moved with easy grace, and when young she must have been a notable beauty. Even now, in her weather-beaten late-middle years, she still warranted the second glances that most of the men in the tavern automatically gave her.

And, of course, she had red hair. Although now there was a trace of silver near her temples.

Her eyes met the old man's. Then, putting her hands flat on my table, she leaned over and kissed him.

"Pretty bird," the old man said softly once their lips finally parted, "You know full well that I'm now a married man."

The Wilder woman merely kissed him again, and the old man didn't resist. Then she sat at his table and gestured to the tavern-keeper's daughter. The girl approached and poured a cup of ale. The old man flipped a coin to the barmaid and she neatly caught it in mid-air.

"What brings you here?" the woman asked. There was impudent tone to her voice. The old man remembered it well. She had never feared anything. Not even him.

"I'm just visiting," the old man answered stonily.

"You're breaking the rules by coming here," the woman pointed out just before she drained her cup. After she put the cup down, there was white foam on her lips. Still looking directly at the old man, she licked it away with a long tongue. The memories that brought back were shockingly intense.

The woman knew exactly what she was doing. Old girl-friends could be a pain-in-the-ass like that.

The old man grunted. "I created those rules. I ignore them as I wish."

"Who are you visiting?"

She knows damn well why I'm here, the old man thought to himself. She just wants me to say it. It had always been like that between them. She enjoyed finding the deeply buried parts of him, where he was more an ordinary man than anything else.

"Family," the old man replied shortly.

The Wilder woman raised an eyebrow in a way that the old man remembered well. The old man's wife was more than enough for him, but the woman sitting opposite from him represented life and reincarnation itself. His time with her - so very, very, long ago - was something he could never forget.

"Dammit, woman," the old man growled. "I apologize to nobody for wanting to see the children of my blood."

That made the woman smile. "What do you think of them?"

The old man considered the woman's words before speaking. "I can see my sons in Oliver and Sigmund. The way they talk, stand, run, or even just look at you - it's as if I've been transported back to a time long gone. But in Oliver, I can also see that bastard Logan. It's buried deep in his eyes, but it's there; something dangerous and waiting. And as for Sigmund... well, even I don't know the details of what Loki had in mind for him, but I can see a kindness in Sigmund that Loki will always lack. I hope that stays with him."

"It's not the same with Olivia," the old man continued. "I never had a daughter, but now I find myself regretting that. Olivia is a fine woman. I just wish she was more willing to acknowledge the Asgardian side of her family. I would like to someday greet her as she enters the gates of Valhalla."

The Wilder woman got to her feet, leaned over the table, and kissed the old man once again. This time she kissed him on the patch he wore over his missing eye.

"It was good to see you again," she said. "I best leave before I do too much damage to this body. It's frailer than my usual hosts."

Then she turned and left.

Still sitting at his table, the old man sipped at his ale, and examined the gentle curve of the Phoenix's ass as she walked out of the tavern's door.

"Good to see you again, pretty bird," Odin muttered to himself.


	57. To Serve the Lady of Storms

TO SERVE THE LADY OF STORMS

I found Lord Crowe in his tent. The two samurai who were on guard announced and admitted me. The lord rose to his feet as I entered. He had been seated cross-legged before a stack of seven stones, apparently deep in thought.

The seven stones are a Blood tradition that represents the Old One. The Blood are a strange people: while they unhesitatingly acknowledge the divinity of the Three Goddesses and justly worship them, they simultaneously consider the Old One to be more akin to a wise and powerful ancestor. In fact, the Blood are even more touchy than usual if you make the mistake of referring to the Old One as a deity.

Therefore, the Blood do not offer prayers to the Old One. Instead, when a Blood considers himself to be at a critical crossroads, he meditates in an effort to gain the Old One's guidance. To an outsider, the difference seems trivial, but the Blood see it otherwise.

Lord Crowe was a short and stocky figure, clad in light chain armor identical to that worn by his samurai. His face was severe, with pure white hair worn in the oddly triangular style that was his trademark. His eyes were a strikingly cold gray that always reminded me of newly forged sword-blades. He was remarkably old for a lord of the Blood - almost in his second century. Usually, about the time a lord's gray hair begins to predominate, a younger challenger kills him and takes his holding.

Lord Crowe had proven difficult to kill.

Actually, the local region had two lords who were older than most. There are some who have begun to call the holdings around Lock 'the land of the gray lords'. I understand the younger lords find that irritating.

If you were to ask, most would tell you that Lord Crowe was the eldest lord south of the Ont Sea. They were wrong, of course. Actually, my husband is by far the elder of the two.

"Lady Olivia, it is a pleasure to see you again," Lord Crowe told me. He didn't quite grit his teeth as he did so.

Lord Crowe has always been dutifully polite to me. As a Storm-Hammer of Lady Ororo - both a priestess and a warrior in the Lady's service - I am owed respect from the Blood. The ties between the Old One and Lady Ororo are ancient, deep, and not to be trifled with.

Likewise, the goddess demands that I give the Blood my counsel. Even the ones who don't particularly like me.

I bowed in response to Lord Crowe's greeting.

"The honor is mine," I replied. Actually, I was being just as insincere as Lord Crowe. I respect the man, but I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed his company.

Then Lord Crowe cocked his head. That reminded me so much of my husband and my son that I felt a momentary pang.

"Lady Olivia... you've been in a fight," Lord Crowe noted.

I shrugged. My armor was scratched, dented, and blood-smeared. There were bruises and cuts on my face and arms.

"It's nothing. And I apologize for disturbing you," I replied.

On the other claw, I was quite sincere about that last part. If a man as self-assured as Lord Crowe was meditating before the seven stones of the Old One, then it was probably over a matter of some importance.

Lord Crowe waved a hand dismissively. "It is nothing, I..."

Then he paused and gave me a long and piercing look. It was as if something had just occurred to him.

"Honored lady, why do you wish to speak to me?" he finished.

* * *

Honestly, my husband should have been handling the discussion - the Blood are a patriarchal and stubborn bunch - but James' mission to Nyagra had turned into something else. Only time would tell if that 'something else' would be a disaster.

You see, Emma and I had lied to our husband about something very important. In our defense, we both felt it was necessary, and it was one of those situations in which there were no good choices.

However, that deed - that lie - gnawed at me. I should have told James the truth once we were joined as husband and wife, but...

But...

But perhaps I don't love my husband as much as a wife should. Oh, I do care for James. I care a great deal. After all, I've given him one child and hope for more.

It's just that I care for Emma more than I care for James.

"It is time to discuss the issue of the half-Creed," I told him.

Lord Crowe stared at me for a moment. Then he nodded abruptly.

* * *

Over a century ago, a mighty Creed raid - the largest ever seen in this part of the continent - crashed through the region that spanned from Nyagra to Roche, killing a vast number of innocents and putting hundreds of farms and villages to the torch. It was only halted after a series of blood-soaked battles that left the local populace decimated and exhausted.

The region has never fully recovered, and it remains infested with Creed. Three major Creed tribes occupy the stretch between the towns of Nyagra and Roche. Dozens of hard-bitten Blood lords form the bulwark that defends those towns - and their own people - from the Creed. For over a century, a brutal and never-ending series of skirmishes and battles have raged between the Blood and the Creed. Raid and counter-raid are a common event. The boundless hatred between Blood and Creed has accelerated beyond any trace of reason.

Atrocity and fury have become a way of life.

And it was about to get worse.

* * *

"Ale!" Lord Crowe called. After a few seconds of delay, an Elvish woman clad in an attractive but sensible dress entered the tent. She was carrying a beaker and two cups and, while she was pretty, I could tell she was not strictly ornamental. There were scars along her neck that reached up to her jaw, and the pair of long daggers on her belt were not for show. She had the look of a woman who could service a man's bed or cut his throat with equal skill.

Lord Crowe was famously unmarried. I took the Elf to be one of his many concubines.

Without a word, the Elf poured each of us a measure of ale. She gave Lord Crowe the first cup. After I accepted mine, she wordlessly bowed her way back out of the tent.

We were in Lord Crowe's camp, which was poised on the frontier between his holding and Creed territory. Lord Crow was commanding a force consisting of his samurai and militia, additional detachments from several other Blood lords, and a mixed contingent of Folk, Scatter, and Wilder regulars from the town of Lock.

That was an amazing show of cooperation.

The goal was to drive deep into Creed territory and destroy a key outpost that the Creed used as a marshaling point for their raids. That was actually a distraction. While the Creed were furiously focused on Lord Crowe's attack, a much larger force of mixed troops - including a significant number of Temple priestesses, acolytes, and guards - would move by boat along the shore of the Ont. They would eventually land at a defensible position and establish a fortification. They needed a critical few days to dig in. Lord Crowe and those under his command would give them the time they needed.

That fortification would be the basis of a vassal village - both a military post and eventually a center for Blood holdings.

The only reason either operation had a chance of succeeding was due to the amazing amount of mutual aid that the town of Lock, the regional Blood holders, and the Temples of Nyagra and Lock were granting each other.

The near-term goal was to cripple the nearest Creed tribe. The long-term goal was no less than the destruction of the Creed between Nyagra and Roche.

The truly amazing thing was that nobody seemed to realize that it was all my husband's plan. I saw with my own eyes how James set his scheme in motion. I was often his diplomatic go-between while he communicated with the various key players.

It was an impressive feat of diplomacy and subterfuge. It was also more than a little frightening. I suspected my husband had long-term goals that he hadn't explained to anyone.

Once, long ago, my husband had been much more than just another lord.

I wondered if that would happen again.

* * *

Lord Crowe examined me over the rim of his cup. His eyes were slightly narrow as he studied my face.

"What about the half-Creed?" he asked.

"We can't simply slaughter them," I replied evenly.

Lord Crowe's eyes narrowed even further.

* * *

The Creed are monsters; savage and bloodthirsty. I would say that they are more akin to animals than people, but that is an insult to the natural hunger of predators. The Creed are a bane on this Earth. They do not communicate - they murder. They do not woo - they rape. They do not build or trade - they steal. Their great enemy is the Blood. And if it were not for the Blood, the Creed might well have overwhelmed our world long ago.

In fact, it sometimes seems as if the rest of us are simply players in the drama of the mutual hatred between Blood and Creed.

Lord Crowe shook his head, but I could see something uneasy about him.

"The Old One has long since made his will known," he said. "The half-Creed are tainted. Just like their fathers, they are to be killed."

The children of the Creed either become full Creed - that is to say, monsters - or they hold on to some vestige of the humanity. Those who are not Creed are commonly referred to as half-Creed. The Creed treat them as slaves and their lives are terrible and short.

"My lord Crowe," I said softly. "Perhaps it is time to once again seek the will of the Old One on this question."

Lord Crowe's smile was bitter. "It seems there is never a Seeker around when you need one."

That statement raised a few questions about what Lord Crowe knew...

"True," I responded, "but the Old One's will is known through signs."

That made Lord Crowe pause.

"Do you have a sign for me, Priestess Olivia?" he eventually replied. His use of the title "Priestess" rather than "Lady" was calculated. It was definitely not my role to bring the will of the Old One to the Blood. Some might find the suggestion that I was doing so to be a grievous insult.

I was being gently warned by a man who did nothing gently.

I smiled at Lord Crowe, "I am obviously an instrument of Lady Ororo."

There was a roll of thunder in the distance. I wish I could tell who sent it, but the flourish was appreciated.

Lord Crowe waited for the thunder to end. Then he shrugged and took a long drink from his cup.

"A sign from Lady Ororo would not be for the Blood."

I chuckled. "Weren't you just crouched before the seven stones, Lord Crowe? Weren't you asking for some form of guidance? Perhaps it has arrived."

There was no point to saying anything more. Lord Crowe might be a blunt instrument of a man, but he was not stupid.

With a frown, Lord Crowe put his cup on a nearby map table.

"What do you wish to show me, Lady Olivia?" he asked suspiciously.

I took a deep breath. "Would you care to accompany me outside?" I asked.

* * *

We stood underneath a starless sky. Above us, a band of turbulent clouds stretched from horizon to horizon, partly illuminated by a half-moon.

Outside the tent, the two Blood guards and Lord Crowe's Elvish woman were waiting for us. The junior of the two samurai who guarded Lord Crowe's tent bowed respectfully and handed me my pole-hammer. As a matter of courtesy, I had not brought it into the tent with me.

The rest of the camp - a tense and silent mass of Blood, Wilder, and Folk - were stretched in a great semi-circle that faced the tent, yet keeping to a respectful distance. The scene was illuminated by guttering torchlight.

Lord Crowe didn't react. He had the remarkable senses of a Blood, so he'd heard what was happening outside. Wisely, he hadn't made the mistake of making a fuss about it. If I called the camp together to hear the wisdom of Lady Ororo, that was my right. And everyone in the camp either directly worshiped the Lady or held her in deep regard.

There were three figures in the open space between us and the mass of camp inhabitants. A Creed warrior was bound hand and foot in chains. He lay on the ground, struggling vainly against his bonds. Kneeling nearby was a half-Creed. He was a youngster, probably still in his teens. He was dressed in rags that didn't do much to conceal the patchwork of scars that covered his body. His hands were tied behind his back and a rope halter descended from his neck, coiling on the ground before him. His eyes seemed empty and hopeless.

Lastly, an acolyte of Lady Ororo - a barefoot and scrawny girl dressed in hand-me-down robes - was also present. She was watching the two prisoners and keeping the troops of the encampment in place. I'd drafted her into my service when I entered the camp. Not for the first time, I made a mental note to get her some sandals and a good set of robes before I left.

"May I?" I asked the Elvish woman as I held my free hand out to her.

The Elf considered me for a moment. Then, without a word, she plucked one of the daggers from her belt and handed it to me.

Walking into the middle of the semi-circle, I gestured to the acolyte that she should leave. She bowed and withdrew.

When I cut the half-Creed free, there was a ripple of unease from the massed warriors. More than few sets of claws snikted open. Swords and knives were drawn by many of the non-Blood.

Over my shoulder, I could sense a pulse of electricity as the acolyte made ready to call on the Lady's power and will.

Looking up, I saw a tracery of lightning flickering off in the distance.

Everyone became even more tense when I handed the dagger to the half-Creed boy.

Then I grounded the butt of my pole-hammer into the ground and leaned against the massive hammer-head. The short-handled hammer symbol engraved into the hammer-head gave off a faint blue glow.

"We need a sacrifice," I told the puzzled and frightened boy.

It took him a moment to understand. Then, with a breathless cry of hatred, he leaped onto the chained Creed. The dagger in his hand flashed in the torchlight, describing a long downward arc. When he brought the blade up again, blood flew wildly. Some splattered onto my face, hands, and cloak.

The thunder from the lightning we'd seen seconds ago finally arrived, rolling like great drums as it washed over us.

Everyone watched in unblinking silence. White teeth glittered in the dark. It took a long time for the Creed to finally die. After that, the boy sawed off the Creed's head. That was how you make sure a Creed - or a Blood - is absolutely dead.

Shaking in reaction, the boy finally staggered to his feet. His face, arms, and upper body were soaked in blood. The mockery of clothing he'd been wearing had been torn loose from his body and he was naked. He glared around him, his dagger held ready. I suppose he was waiting for death.

As Lord Crowe examined the scene before him, his Elvish woman touched him gently on the arm. He turned to the Elvish woman, looked into her eyes, and then nodded. The smile the Elf gave to her lord was eager... and more than a little ferocious.

Slipping out of her clothing, the Elf entered the semi-circle, took the dagger away from the boy, and kicked the Creed's head and body off to the side. The jagged scars of Creed claws were visible on her back and stomach, rippling as her tight muscles shifted. Then she licked blood from the boy's face and hands.

When she and the boy began fucking in the blood-soaked grass, it was a frenzied and savage coupling.

Among the samurai and soldiers, some couples - and a few threesomes and foursomes - began drifting away. They were obviously intent on culminating the sacrifice in their own manner. The acolyte who'd helped me was in the arms of a burly Blood. They whispered to each other as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Then their lips met. That sort of thing was a violation of the conditions of being an acolyte, but I've learned that sometimes it's best if you are too busy to notice everything that's being done by your underlings.

"Is this sign acceptable?" I asked Lord Crowe, doing my best to keep my voice respectful and completely neutral.

Lord Crowe gave me a crooked smile. "I would have rathered that everyone got a good night's sleep."

Then he turned to the older of his two guards - who was actually Lord Crowe's senior samurai. The samurai had obviously wanted to make sure that his lord was as safe as possible on the night before entering Creed territory.

Lord Crowe jerked his head towards the couple that was convulsing before the rapidly disintegrating semi-circle of warriors.

"When they're done, get that boy a weapon and some armor," the lord said. "I think he'll be useful."

"Yes, my lord," the senior samurai said. He was trying to hide a smile.

"And let it be known that we will free any half-Creed we encounter, not kill them," Lord Crowe finished.

"Yes, my lord," The senior samurai repeated. His approval was obvious.

Then Lord Crowe looked back at me. "If you will excuse me, Lady Olivia. While this conversation has been illuminating, I have troop dispositions to consider."

I bowed politely.

After Lord Crowe vanished inside his tent, I wiped the Creed's blood-splatter from my face. Most of the troops were gone. The Elf and the half-Creed boy were still tangled up in one another, but their interaction was less frantic - as I watched, the Elf moaned a whisper, and then a kiss, into the boy's ear.

Blood still flowed from the body of the Creed, but it no longer pulsed outward from a beating heart.

I looked up at the night-sky. Off to the east and west, lightning flared once again. And this time the thunder arrived almost immediately.

Still looking up at the storm, I whispered a quiet word of thanks.

Sometimes, you just have to explain things to the Blood in a manner that they will understand.


	58. Oath-Maker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Okay, I admit that two back-to-back stories about Storm priestesses is perhaps excessive. But I think you'll agree that Dare and Olivia are very different women, with very different approaches to how they do their respective jobs.
> 
> Please note that I've successfully managed to jumble what should be a simple time-line. This story actually occurs before 'To Serve the Lady of Storms'.

 

OATH-MAKER

My name is Dare and there are some who call me a demigoddess. After all, Lady Ororo herself is my distant ancestor.

As is perhaps inevitable, I serve as one of the Storm Lady's priestesses. Perhaps I would have been happier if I had chosen a different path, but my family has certain expectations of me, and I have done my best to honor them.

Standing outside the central chamber of the temple in which I serve, I took a deep breath before entering. I had to speak with the High Priestess, and that would almost certainly not be a pleasant conversation.

The high priestess of our temple serves the Lady of Blades. As such, the central chamber is stark and martial in nature, but not without a certain taciturn splendor. A sheet of finely polished chain-mail covered the altar. The temple blade - an ancient katana - was suspended from the wall behind the altar. A silver lightning bolt of Lady Ororo and the stylized ruby flame symbol of Lady Grey flanked the weapon.

Priestess Carol was kneeling before the altar, obviously deep in prayer. She was an older Folk woman, with gray crowding out the almost vanished yellow of her hair. Time had lined her face, but she still carried herself as if she were years younger than her actual age.

The Folk are so short-lived compared to the other peoples. It's difficult to see the ones you care for age, weaken, and die after a mere seventy-or-so years of life. Meanwhile, it is not unusual at all for a Wilder to see their second century. The Blood would live even longer, but their violent lives sees many of them cut down while quite young.

I took a seat in one of the half-dozen pews. The temple's central chamber is actually quite small. Once, it had been the entire temple, but over the centuries the Alban temple has grown to engulf the single room of the original structure.

"What is it?" Priestess Carol asked without turning to face me. She must have heard me enter.

"James has requested that I visit him and perform a service," I replied carefully. "With your permission, I will take a leave of absence."

I could see Priestess Carol's shoulders tighten angrily.

* * *

"I am well and truly sick of that man," Priestess Carol growled as she sat next to me in the pew.

Feeling like an error-prone first-year acolyte, I bobbed my head politely. "Yes, Honored Lady." If I were standing, I suppose I would have curtsied.

"Dare, you are one of the brightest star of your generation," she fumed at me. "I have the highest hopes for your future. But you - we! - just can't seem to get shut of that... that... that..."

She was plainly at an irritated loss for words.

"Asshole?" I suggested. I didn't really agree with that, but Carol needed to vent her anger.

"Yes!" she exploded. "Precisely! That asshole James! He is a disaster on two legs! Wherever he goes, chaos follows! Heresy thrives! Temples are violated! Demons appear! Alien gods manifest! Abominations are conceived! The true Phoenix stirs! Formerly sane and sober priestesses throw themselves at his feet! There is simply no end to the madness that surrounds him! And now you tell me that he asks a favor!? WELL FUCK HIM!"

Among other responsibilities, Blade Priestesses tend to the spiritual needs of warriors. The Blade priestesses are perhaps the bravest of the Temple sisters, but the ways of common samurai and soldiers have a tendency to rub off on them. As a result, priestesses of the Bladed Lady can be somewhat... outspoken.

"Yes, Honored Lady," I said again, "but perhaps not everything was his fault..."

"Do not defend him in my presence," Priestess Carol told me coldly. "I enjoy the purity of the rage I feel whenever I think about James. You will not take that from me."

I took another deep breath. "Yes, Honored Lady. However, I feel I must do as James has asked."

"And why the blazes should you travel all the way to... where? Nyagra or thereabouts? What does he want from you?"

"He has asked that I give the Storm-oath to a group of lords."

That made Carol pause. The Storm-oath is a serious matter.

"Wait..." she suddenly exclaimed. "Nyagra has a temple and certainly should have a priestess of Lady Ororo. And for that matter, one of James' wives is a Storm-Hammer! So why must you to travel all the way to Nyagra to administer an oath?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "but I don't think we have much choice." Then I plucked a letter from my robes and opened the crinkling parchment.

"This is from James," I told Priestess Carol. "He asks me to deliver the oath. He also says that he knows of no temple that better serves the three goddesses than ours. And that the priestess who you have trained and nurtured here are among the finest he has ever encountered."

I handed her James' letter.

Priestess Carol's eyesight was not as good as it once was, so she had to hold the letter at arm's length. However, I could see her eyes track back and forth as she read what James had written. When she was done, she lowered the letter and closed her eyes.

"I hate that man," she said softly. "Still, if nobody else has seen this letter..."

I made a helpless motion with my hands. "James also sent a copy to Lord Alban. And Lord Alban is obviously honored. He has nailed his copy of the letter to the gate of his manor for all to see."

Seeker James - although James no longer used that title - is an honored name in the Huds valley. It was he who called the Blood and the allied peoples to war against a Dark Elf invasion. He and his companions fought in that struggle from beginning to end. And James eventually killed Malekith with his own claws. Praise from him would exalt our temple both in the eyes of the local people and throughout the region. The benefits of that would be huge. Especially for a small, rural, temple on the fringes of civilization.

Likewise, Lord Alban was a most pious Blood who has done his best to support the Temple - both the larger institution and our humble little shrine. For James to write such words about the temple of Lord Alban's village would be a matter of great personal pride to Lord Alban.

To not help James would be decidedly awkward.

"He's trapped us," I said quietly.

"I hate that man," Priestess Carol repeated. Her eyes were still closed.

* * *

It was just after sundown. High Priestess Carol and I were standing in the temple courtyard. I had a small pack strapped to my back. Otherwise, I wore a comfortable pair of walking boots and a specially-cut traveling robe. My hair was firmly tied back in a long ponytail.

"Avoid looking James in the eyes," Priestess Carol told me worriedly. "Be careful to not actually touch him - not even accidentally. And never be alone with him."

It was a struggle not to smile. "Honored Lady - Carol - I don't think James has some strange power of seduction."

"You never know," she told me nervously. "He's already bedded and wedded Emma and Olivia. And then there's that Elf minstrel who's also his wife. And now I hear he's taking concubines! There have always been tales of how the Old One was unaccountably attractive to women - and James was a Seeker of the Old One for an impossibly long time. Who knows what secrets he has learned? It's wise to be suspicious."

"I've met him before," I pointed out, "and I managed not to immediately leap into his bed."

Carol paused, and then nodded her head. "True, but I don't want to lose another priestess to him. Be careful."

"I'll keep my legs together," I promised with as straight a face as I could manage.

"See that you do," Carol said sternly. Then she got up on her toes and gave me a motherly kiss on the forehead.

After that, Carol retreated back to the cover of the courtyard shrine. The guards at the gate also took cover. Otherwise, by Carol's order, the courtyard was empty.

Looking skyward - into the star-strewn vastness of Lady Ororo's airy realm - I opened my arms in invitation and took a moment to focus my thoughts.

There was a sudden hammer of almost tornadic wind. And I was thrown into the sky.

Laughing in pure joy, my arms and legs splayed to catch the winds in the vanes in my robe, I reoriented myself. Below me, I caught a glimpse of Carol. She had a lantern in one hand and was waving at me with the other.

I waved back. Then, riding a warm zephyr, I twirled about and swooped towards the west.

* * *

Over the last few years, the Lady of Storms had seen fit to allow me the power of flight. Why I have been blessed in such a manner, I do not know. The gift of flight - to actually be allowed to ride Lady Ororo's winds - is a tremendous sign of the Lady's favor. I cannot help but feel unworthy.

Using the north star as a guide, I darted off to the north-west. After an hour or so, I flew over the dimly lit bulk of the town of Syra. Eventually I found the moonlit silver vastness of the Ont Sea and began racing along its southern shore. Every now and then, I could see the bright lanterns of boats below me.

Somewhere east of Roche, a dark mass began following me. I gave it a flash of lightning to warn it away. It veered off and I never got a clear look. Whatever it was, it vanished into the night, but I watched my back carefully after that. There had been reports of dragons hunting the waters of the Central Seas.

In terms of aerial navigation, the town of Nyagra is rather easy to find. It was first light when I saw - and heard! - the legendary falls.

A white-winged Angel woman and her fledgling daughter - obviously amazed - intercepted me on my approach to town. They paced me for a while, but were heavily buffeted by the winds that kept me aloft and were eventually forced to break away.

The little girl looked so thrilled when we exchanged goodbye waves.

The approach to the Nyagra temple was a bit tricky since there are several tall buildings in the area. However, I managed to avoid killing myself. Almost as good, I also avoided landing flat on my face when I finally touched down in the temple courtyard. I quietly thanked the goddess for allowing me that dignity as, exhausted from my flight, I stumbled to a nearby stone bench. Then a temple guard dashed into the whirl of my receding winds, put a strong arm around my shoulders, and helped me sit down. Even better, once I was settled, he noticed how wind-beaten I was and handed me his canteen.

* * *

The mistress of the Nyagra temple was a Flame Priestess named Rachel. She had the decency to wait until I caught my breath and had something to eat before putting in an appearance. She found me sitting cross-legged on the cobblestones of the courtyard. The guards were sharing their breakfast with me and had found a worn, clean, blanket for me to sit on. Some might consider that breaking my fast with the guards was undignified for a woman of my station, and I certainly could have found a fancier meal inside the temple itself. However, the simple, open-handed, generosity of the guards was difficult to refuse.

As Rachel approached, we all got to our feet. I hurriedly finished chewing some toasted bread and swallowed.

"Priestess Dare, welcome to Nyagra," Rachel said to me. Her tone struck me as even, but not particularly pleased.

Around us, the guards quickly gathered up the blanket and the food and then silently bowed and vanished. I began to wonder just how happy the Nyagra temple was. Back in Alban, Priestess Carol was always greeted with polite correctness, but genuine warmth, by our guards and servants.

"It's a pleasure, Honored Lady," I replied after a formal bow.

"Lady Emma has been in communication with me," Rachel continued. "Lord James has sent an escort. I understand they will take you to the town of Lock. That's most of a day's journey. And they should be arriving soon."

I managed not to sigh. It would be much faster to simply fly, but not everyone who lives bound to the earth understands that. And besides, some aspects of my presence shouldn't be revealed until the proper time.

In my younger days, I'd learned the trick of sleeping in the saddle. I hoped I could still manage it.

* * *

I recognized the commander of the escort that was to take me to Lock. We'd met before.

"Jessica," I said with a polite nod, "it's good to see you again."

With the supple grace of her kind, Jessica bowed so deeply that her not-very-long blonde hair almost brushed the ground.

"Honored Lady," she said - granting me a position and title that I hadn't yet earned, "it's an honor."

"And how is Gant doing?" I asked as we began walking over to the horses. A small band of samurai and archer auxiliaries waited for us. They were the main body of my escort.

Jessica seemed surprised by my question. For my part, I'll never forget how that bull-sized Troll fought so hard to keep me safe against Dormammu's demons. I owe him a debt and I'm unsure how I will ever repay it.

"He's recovering from a bad fight," Jessica replied, "but our medicae says he'll be fine. Trolls can take a lot of damage and Gant is even tougher than most of his kind."

Jessica politely held my horse's bridle as I mounted.

"I understand you have become Lord James' concubine," I said to her. "Congratulations."

I meant that. James was a strong, loyal, and generous man - what an earlier age would have called "a good catch". Priestess Carol's poor opinion of him had never struck me as particularly fair.

The smile that appeared on Jessica's face was bright enough. If I had to guess, I'd say she was honestly happy.

"Thank you," she replied.

Jessica is a woman with a hollow past. It's always good when such a person finally finds a home.

* * *

Lock is like most villages on the frontiers - it is almost more of a fortification than a village. High stone and timber walls were everywhere. Watchtowers loomed. Samurai on guard duty kept an eye out in all directions.

Actually, my home of Alban is much the same.

As we approached the village, I could see the standard-bearing encampments of more than a few Blood lords. This was the great meeting at which I was to give the Lady's oath.

My escort and I veered towards the small camp of Lord Ashe. James' standard was impressive - the ancient black 'X' of the Wilder, within a wheel that is itself the sigil of the Crippled Lord. When I saw it, I suddenly went cold. For a moment, it was as if I could hear the whisper of ancient ghosts.

James and Emma left the largest tent and approached us as Jessica and I dismounted from our horses.

"Hello, Dare," James said. Then he paused and looked at me more closely.

"You look tired," he continued. He seemed genuinely concerned. Honestly, I've never been sure about James' actual attitude towards me. Perhaps, when we first me, we spent too much time alternating between cooperation and verbal dueling. That set the tone for a confused relationship.

James is tall and slender; an older Blood with gray hair and piercing eyes. Yet despite his apparent age, he was strong and fit. It still seemed strange to see him in the armor and trappings of a Blood lord, rather than the buckskin and bone-tooth necklace of a Seeker. Also, he seemed oddly off-balance without a Seeker's staff in his hand.

Emma was by his side. With a smile, she took me in her arms and gave me a kiss that was not quite as chaste as the one Carol had given me. For one thing, it was on my lips. It also lingered a bit beyond what many would see as appropriate.

Emma used to be an agent of the Graymalkin - and perhaps still was. The Graymalkin are a secret order among the Fire priestesses. They serve the interests of the Temple as our spies and psychic guardians. They certainly have other agendas and obligations, and it was entirely possible that I didn't know them all. That thought sometimes keeps me awake at night.

Once upon a time, I was Emma's cover at the Alban temple. She posed as a common servant - specifically as my handmaiden. On the first day she was assigned to me, she insisted that helping me bathe was also a necessary part of her cover. That was reasonable since, after all, it was an expected duty of a handmaiden.

The things she then proceeded to do to me in that bath...

Afterwards, I asked her if that was also part of her cover.

"No," she told me with a smug smile. "It was just fun."

I drove those thoughts from my head.

"James, you owe me an explanation," I said as mildly as I could. "I've come a long way to perform a service that could have been done by a local priestess. Why?"

James shrugged and then gave me his typical wintry smile. "It's simple - I can think of nobody better. I need you for this, Dare. But in the meantime, you need to get some rest."

I couldn't argue with his last words.

By tradition, a Storm-oath is given when the sun is at its highest. Some say that is to prevent anyone from using shadows to hide from the Lady's sight. Since it was long past the noon hour when I arrived, that meant I had a chance to get a night's sleep, which was something I desperately needed.

* * *

My night was filled with odd dreams. In one dream, Ororo and a woman from across the western ocean were dressed in unlikely outfits of dark leather as they leaped across the rooftops of a strange and titanic city. In another, Lady Ororo and Lady Jean sat together on a sunny beach, clad only in scantily elegant strips of cloth. Their feet were kissed by the surf as they quietly talked. In the third dream, a nude Lady Ororo was in the arms of the Old One - except sometimes his face was like the ancient tribes of the southwest, while at other times, his face was black.

Finally, I saw her holding hands with a huge man, blond of hair and with blue eyes. He wore armor and a red cloak, and there was a war-hammer in his belt.

Perhaps, near the end of that last vision, Ororo and Thor kissed. It is best not to consider such things. A priestess of the Storm Lady ought not to dream of heresy.

* * *

Late the next morning, Jessica helped me get ready. She was startlingly good with makeup - as good as any fully-trained Nyack ornatrix. However, at my request, she kept the amount of makeup to a minimum. Afterwards, a glance in a hand mirror showed that Jessica had accomplished a great deal with very little.

"If you ever get tired of concubinage, there's a position for you at the Alban temple," I told her approvingly.

Jessica just smiled.

"How many lords are here?" I asked her. That would be handy to know.

"Sixteen," Jessica replied as she ran her fingers through my hair. "Six hold this part of the frontier against the Creed. The others are from west of here. In between them, they control the lands from Nyagra to the frontier, and all around Lock."

"Are there any regional lords who haven't consented to this?"

Jessica shook her head. "No. Honestly, I don't know how James managed to get them all to agree, but it was necessary. We had to make sure that the lords directly involved wouldn't be attacked by a fellow lord while their samurai are committed against the Creed."

I nodded. "Are they all Blood males?"

"Thirteen male Blood - including James. Two female Blood. One male Redeye."

That made me chuckle. "That Redeye must be one tough bastard."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "You have no idea, milady. And he was the hardest one to convince to take this oath. He really doesn't like his neighbors."

I shrugged. "Nobody has the same commitment to killing Creed as the Blood."

Jessica made an agreeing sound, then she frowned as she once again considered my hair. "Milady, are you sure you want to leave this unbound? And are you sure you want to be barefoot? If you don't want to wear your traveling boots, I can loan you a pair of sandals."

"No, thank you, Jessica. I need to look a bit wild. My appearance is part of the effect."

Then I got to my feet. "It's almost time."

Jessica nodded and escorted me out of the tent. The two samurai guarding the tent looked at me in surprise. The older one quickly flicked his eyes away. The younger one kept staring.

Then the older samurai growled and slapped the younger one on the back of his helmet. "Grow up!" he snarled at the youth.

Actually, I wasn't angry with the younger Blood. The gown I wore was diaphanous and didn't leave a lot to the imagination. The effect that has on men is quite calculated. It wasn't the youngster's fault that he was reacting just as I wanted.

"The lords have gathered, milady," the older samurai told me - with just the barest hint that maybe I should get on with it. As near as I could tell, his eyes were focused on the center of my forehead. The younger one was wisely looking at everything except me. Beside me, Jessica was trying not to smile.

I glanced up at the sky. The blood of my divine ancestor and mistress knows the cycles of this world with great accuracy. It was just a minute or two before noon.

Focusing my will, I began gathering a storm.

I could feel it rumble into existence as far winds danced. To the west, clouds bulked up and turned dark. As I watched critically, they began racing towards us. The scent of rain was suddenly in the air.

"Get back," I told the others as I walked into the wide open space between the circle of tents.

The first instinct of the two samurai was to keep close to me. In response to my order, they fell back. Jessica wisely stayed where she was.

Then, in a howl of grass and dust, surrounded by a whirlwind, I launched myself into the sky.

Below me, Jessica was laughing in delight. The older samurai looked amazed. I'm pretty sure the younger one was peering up my robes. Since I was wearing nothing underneath them, he was getting an eyeful.

As I watched, the older samurai smacked the younger one to the ground.

I couldn't help but let out a peal of laughter.

* * *

There is a shrine to Lady Ororo on the road that leads into Lock - I'd scouted it out earlier that morning. It was a tall and simple carving of stone, sinuously weaving as if it were fabric caught in the wind. That rather basic style is sometimes looked down upon in the modern age, but I've always admired it. Implication has a grace all of its own.

The lords were gathered near the shrine, all of them keeping some distance from each other. They were unaccompanied by samurai, advisors, family, or servants. As I arrived, they were all trying to keep an eye on each other without appearing to do so.

I fell from the sky, my robes swirling around my body. Then I landed atop the shrine itself. As my bare feet contacted the rough stone of the shrine, lightning theatrically flared behind me.

As a rule, subtlety is lost on the Blood. I saw no reason to even try.

I waited until the thunder finished growling, then I nodded to my assembled audience.

At first, the lords were startled - except for James, of course. Then all sixteen of the assembled lords gave me the traditional cross-armed bow. However, they weren't really bowing to me. Rather, they were showing the appropriate respect to what I represented.

The lords were a motley crew, yet still similar. They all wore armor, although in different styles. None carried weapons because, after all, they were themselves weapons. Honestly, I had a hard time telling the two women from the men. Even the Redeye - a man who would have been handsome if a scowl wasn't apparently a permanent fixture on his face - had about him the same aura of impending violence as the rest.

But actually, the true similarity between them was a matter of the soul - or perhaps the lack of one. To seek lordship means you accepted the fact that you would kill to achieve it. You also accept that someday the position will kill you.

The men and women facing me had all fought their way to lordship. And they would keep fighting until the day they died. I was in the presence some of the most deadly people on the continent.

"What are the conditions of your oath?" I asked without preamble. The Temple has trained me so that I can project my voice without shouting. By subtly manipulating the atmosphere around me, I can augment even that.

This was Lord Lock's holding, so he stepped forward and replied.

"The Creed plague the land between here and Roche," he said in a surprisingly mild tone. "We will destroy them. To serve that holy cause, we will become as brothers and sisters. If one of us is attacked, we are all attacked. There will be no violence between us. Disagreements will be settled with words, not claws. The three eldest of us: Crowe, Ashe, and myself, will arbitrate any disputes. We pledge to make our decisions with justice and without favor."

Then he paused for a long moment before finishing.

"We ask Lady Ororo to hear our oath."

"Let the Old One's will be done," James and some of the Blood lords suddenly said in quiet unison. The Old One's great and final command to his children is to destroy the Creed. Apparently the long delay in cleansing the region had not set well with some.

I wasn't surprised. And I could have sworn that more than one lord was so moved that they had to blink away tears.

"We serve his will," Lock added softly.

After Lock finished, I scanned those before me.

"Do you all agree?" I asked.

There was a rumble of assent. I looked at each lord in turn, making sure I met each individual's gaze - which was tricky with the Redeye. They each nodded as I did.

"I ask again," I continued. "And know that Lady Ororo hears your words. Do you all agree to this oath?"

There was another rumble of ayes. It was louder than before.

I took a deep breath before continuing. "And I ask thrice. Do any of you dissent? Speak plainly now or hold your tongue until the day you enter your grave."

There was long and edgy silence. A few lords glanced speculatively at other lords. I let the silence stretch on for several long seconds.

Then, raising my hands and face upwards, I wordlessly called upon the goddess.

Behind me, from the storm that now dominated the western sky, there was a mighty crack of lightning. A bright flare of light briefly illuminated the lords. They shifted uneasily.

And then there was another bolt of lightning - followed almost instantly by another.

Bolt after bolt began to fall. Within seconds, the western sky was ablaze with light. Thunder cracked deafeningly as the gust-front swirled past and we felt the first driving, wind-blown, drops of rain. It was an amazing and uncanny sight. Even the hardened lords standing before me were obviously impressed.

The lords squinted into the light. It was all I could do to not turn and watch.

That wasn't my lightning. I didn't have - would never have - the power to make a horizon rage from one end to the other. Rather, it was the doing of Lady Ororo herself. She was making her presence known as she looked into the hearts of the assembled lords and judged them. That part of the Storm-oath can be quite dangerous. My great-so-many-times grandmother doesn't like being lied to, and she is not averse to letting her fury be known.

Cold rain began falling in earnest as ball lightning appeared out of nowhere and started to slowly dance around us. Sparks flared between the lords - skipping from armored form to armored form. The howling wind almost shoved me from my perch atop the shrine and I threw up a quick counter-wind to keep me in place. The assembled lords, illuminated by the strange light that flared between them, were forced to lean into the tempest. They gritted their teeth as the energies swirling about them sparked and burned.

That was why James had asked me to administer the oath. Any Storm Priestess can perform the bare bones of the ceremony. But I'm not boasting when I say that the Lady of Storms seems to become particularly interested when I preside over the Storm-oath.

"Grandmother," I whispered to the sky, my arms and legs shaking with effort and fear, "we are blessed by your presence, but now is the time for mercy. Make your judgment and leave us."

There was a frightening moment as the storm seemed to ignore me.

Then the lightning decreased and the thunder moderated. The rain gentled and the strange energies surrounding us slowly faded away.

The lords began to stir. I was shaking with reaction. James ran up, grabbed me by the waist, and gently helped me down from the top of the shrine. The wet grass was slick under my feet and I wrapped an arm around James to make sure I didn't fall.

It took me several tries before I could speak. I was shivering from the cold rain.

"The goddess has heard your words," I rasped out to the assembled lords, "and she knows your souls."

"She accepts your oath, but know that she is watching."

Their faces set and grim, the lords bowed. Again, it was not to me.

* * *

I was back in my tent. My soaked gown had been replaced with a marvelously soft and warm blanket. My wet hair was wrapped in a cloth. Emma was sitting next to the cot where I lay. She was holding a cup of strong wine and every now and then helped me take a drink. Jessica was rubbing my feet. James was doing the same to my hands. It was, to say the least, a luxurious experience.

"I should give the oath more often," I said - perhaps a bit smugly. Hopefully the goddess would forgive me a moment of pride and arrogance.

Emma gave me an angry and worried look that essentially asked if I was a damn fool, but said nothing aloud. Jessica obviously wanted to do the same, but our respective social stations made that impossible. James just seemed amused. Then Emma handed me the wine cup as she stood up and impudently put an image into my mind. Back when she was pretending to be a simple handmaiden, the act of helping me get ready for bed had involved some very intense effort.

You can always trust Emma to bring you back down to earth.

Trying to hide the expression that appeared on my face, I sat up and quickly took a too sizable swallow of wine. Some trickled down my chin. Emma, smiling a bit archly, wiped it away with the sleeve of her gown.

"May I be alone?" I asked. I did my best to keep my tone polite. They were, after all, worried about me. I apparently had more friends than I realized. That's always a good thing to learn.

After some concerned questions, Emma, James, and Jessica left me.

*Let me know if you need anything,* Emma said mind-to-mind just before she walked out of the tent. Since it was Emma, that was more an order than a request.

*I will. Thank you,* I replied.

But at that moment, what I really wanted was another stiff drink. The wine jar was open on a small table. I refilled my cup. Getting shakily to my feet, I let the blanket wrapped around me fall to the ground. Then I walked over to the tent flap and opened it slightly.

Outside, the younger samurai heard that and looked in my direction. He glanced at my bare breasts, shot a wary look in what I assumed was the direction of the older samurai, and quickly shifted several steps off to the side so that I was out of his line of sight.

Off in distance, before a copse of trees, an ethereal figure formed from what seemed like a coalescence of wind and a swirl of loose twigs and leaves. Somehow, I had the impression of a pair of startlingly blue eyes gazing at me.

The temperature around me dropped.

I shivered, but it really wasn't because of the cold. I gave the blanket on the ground a yearning look, but I didn't pick it up. It wasn't my place to resist.

"I am not deliberately teasing that boy," I said defensively. That really wasn't a conversation I wanted to have.

The eyes - or whatever they were - seemed to gaze skeptically at me. And it got colder.

"I do enjoy his interest," I admitted as white mist drifted from my mouth. "A priestess can live an isolated life. And perhaps I'm jealous of how Emma has found something else."

The temperature rose. I could no longer see my breath.

"Grandmother, you were most impressive today," I added seriously. "Thank you."

I could feel my grandmother's smile - and the temperature edged up a bit more.

And then she was gone.


End file.
